By the Grace of Angels
by Twilight L Xari
Summary: My name is Theresa, and I'm a mutant. Note that I said mutant, not demon. I don't believe that garbage, unlike some people.
1. Radio

Disclaimer: The X-Men aren't mine. Boo-hoo. If I _did_ own them, Scott wouldn't have died at the end of X3.

A/N: This is my first published attempt at fanfiction. So, I'm sorry if my plotlines are a little cheezy. Please review, but refrain from flaming me. Be nice. I mean no harm.

**Chapter 1 - Radio**

"Theresa! THERESA!"

I turned around and saw Willow Erickson running after me down the hall. "Well, hurry up," I called to her, tapping my foot impatiently. "I'm gonna be late."

Willow stopped beside me, panting slightly. "Haven't you heard of the term 'wait for me'?" she asked breathlessly.

"Come to think of it," I mused, "I believe I have. Why? You didn't say that, did you?"

Willow crossed her arms. "I don't know why you're so pissed at me, Theresa. You were fine this morning. Why are you all of a sudden ready to rip my head off just for asking you to wait."

I sighed. "It's not you I'm mad at, Willow, it's Mrs. Nenna. Oh, I can't _stand_ her!"

"What did she do this time?" Willow asked me apologetically.

I interlocked my fingers and squeezed them together, an action that was my favorite form of stress relief. "I just get so damn sick of being ordered around all period!" I said through clenched teeth. "Every day, it's 'Theresa, the homework,' 'Theresa, pass out the red pens so we can correct our quiz,' 'Theresa, come here and show us what's wrong with this sentence.'" I curled my lip. "'Theresa,'" I sing-songed, almost making myself sick, "'go jump off a bridge with fifty-pound lead weights tied to your ankles.' 'Theresa, go stand in front of a Mack truck filled with shrapnel and high explosives.'" I whirled around and started walking again. "I swear, if I ever get the chance, I'm so going to kill that lady," I muttered darkly.

Willow was silent for a moment. "Well, you seem almost more miserable than me. However, it happens that I have the Royal Court of Ditz in my English class, though, so I just might beat you."

I stopped and stared at her. "How many of them are in your class?" I demanded. "You may actually have it worse off than me."

"Let me think," she said. She muttered to herself, counting on her fingers. "Ten," she said at last, "in a class of twenty. That girl that always wears the shirts that are too tight and flirts with Alex and that Mitchell guy sits behind me, too, and Alex sits behind her."

"Oh my god, you poor child." I reached over and patted her on the shoulder. "No one deserves that." I looked heavenward. "Except for maybe Mrs. Nenna…but she deserves worse…"

Willow stepped in front of me, put her hands on my shoulders and shook me. "No, no, and definitely not, Theresa. Don't even think of trying it. Don't you remember what happened _last_ time?"

I winced. How could I not remember? "I've learned since then" seemed to come out of my mouth, though.

Last year, which was eighth grade, my Social studies teacher – Miss Kiley – had pissed me off so badly that I had vowed to get revenge before the end of the year. So, two weeks before school ended, I…uh…snuck into her room while she was off getting lunch. I took her grade book and hid it under one of the large potted plants that adorned the room and always seemed to make me sneeze. Then I took all the homework she had collected that morning and hid it behind books on various bookshelves. Needless to say, I forgot about the fact that there were little things called security cameras in the halls that saw me come and go, and I earned detentions every day until school ended. However, I got a great amount of personal satisfaction knowing that she needed to get a new grade book because hers was ruined, and knowing that she never did find the papers.

"Well, apparently you _haven't_, because you're about to go and do it again!" Willow took her hands off my shoulders and crossed her arms. "I'm not backing you up this time, Theresa. Distracting Miss Kiley was definitely enough for me, and I don't want to get in trouble again!" Trouble? Ha! All that happened to her was that Miss Kiley told her never to get into a philosophical discussion with her again.

The bell rang. "Shit!" I said loudly. "Now I'm late!" I shot off down the hall, silently cursing Mrs. Nenna with every tardy step I took.

I skidded to a stop in front of room 220. The door was closed and locked, so I was forced to sacrifice my pride and knock.

Mr. White, my World Studies teacher, didn't glance at the door, though he must have heard me. I knocked again – and again and again and again. Finally, the person at the end of the row by the door either took pity on me or got sick of my knocking (though I like to think that it was pity) and let me in. I slipped inside and shut the door, then tiptoed across the room to my seat. Mr. White had already put notes up on the white board, so I dug my notebook and pen out of my backpack and started trying to turn his full sentences into notes.

My opinion is that the teachers for the freshmen classes need to learn that we aren't limited to the brain capacity of sixth-graders, and that we are capable of taking notes from a lecture. They all seemed to either put the notes on the white board or projector, or, in the case of Mrs. Nenna and my health teacher, Mrs. Rand, spoon feed us the notes on pre-typed pages that they handed out. They should know that we're smarter than that!

"Theresa!"

My head snapped up almost before my mind had time to process the fact that Mr. White had said my name. "What is the capital of Lebanon?"

"Uh…" I tried to race through all my past geography lessons, but I felt that I was having a complete brain fart, and all I could think of was 'I'm hopeless.' "Um…Beirut?"

Mr. White just grunted, which I didn't quite know how to interpret. Was I right? Wrong? I hadn't the foggiest. However, he scribbled my answer up on the board, so I assumed that the capital of Lebanon was indeed Beirut, and that I must have sounded uncharacteristically smart.

The rest of the class passed by without incident. I got to be silent after my lucky answer, which was perfectly fine with me – I didn't talk much, unless I knew you, and if I didn't and I _did_ decide to talk, I talked way too much and people got mad at me. For some reason, I just couldn't win at life.

When the bell for lunch rang, the whole class – with perfect and unplanned choreography – put our stuff away, stood up, and left, all at the exact same time. Oh, why do you never have a camera when you need one?

I shuffled down the hall and dropped my backpack in front of locker number 800. "Seven…thirteen…twenty-two," I muttered, twisting the combination lock. I pulled up on the latch. The latch came up all right, but the door didn't move, no matter how hard I tugged it.

"Oh, come _on_!" I yelled, kicking the thing as hard as I possibly could. That, of course, didn't accomplish anything except for making me wonder whether my big toe was still in one piece or not. "Just open for god's sake!" I punched it. On the same token, that only succeeded in hurting my knuckles, which didn't improve my mood at all.

I had been standing there for a minute or so when I finally figured out what was wrong: Someone had put several strips of packing tape across my locker door, effectively keeping me out. I scowled and ripped the stuff off and finally managed to get the damn thing open. I dumped the books I didn't need out of my backpack into it, where they fell on top of the disorganized pile that I already had going, then I slammed it shut again and marched off down the hall.

By the time I got to the cafeteria, I was ready to murder the first person I saw. I was last in line, and all that was left by the time I got there was a slice of pizza, some relatively normal-looking nachos slathered with cheese, and a very scrawny hot dog that looked almost moldy. I opted for the nachos.

"Day going any better?" Willow inquired as I sat down next to her.

My response was a noncommittal grunt. I prodded at the nachos. Now that I studied them, I discovered that they weren't nachos – they were cleverly disguised pieces of thin cardboard. There is no way that you can leave a dent on a nacho with your finger. I'm sorry, but chips are supposed to _break_ when you do that, not squish.

"How was health?" I asked Willow, trying to take my mind off of my miserable existence.

Willow snorted. "Oh, it was health. We started class with a discussion of the female reproductive system." She grimaced. "Did I mention that I'm the only girl in my class?"

I patted her on the shoulder. "Poor soul. You have fun with that class." I remembered the tape on my locker. "Oh, and somebody taped my locker shut during third period. Any ideas?"

"Nope." Willow shoved her greasy paper plate into her empty milk carton. "Somebody went through my backpack while I was in the bathroom, though. Maybe the same person?" She shook her shaggy brown hair out of her face. "Let's talk about something less depressing."

"Alright…" I grinned. "How about the fact that after this, we get to go home?"

I laughed out loud at the look on Willow's face when I said that. "I completely forgot!" she said shrilly, which she does when surprised. "Today's a half-day! And I don't have the keys to my house!" She dropped her head down onto the table. "I! Am! So! Stupid!" she said, punctuating each word with another hit.

I put my hands on her shoulders and pulled her back up. "Don't beat yourself up about it," I said, noting my unintentional pun. "Just come home with me and call your mom."

She smiled weakly. "Theresa, you are my hero." She stood up, aimed at the trash can five feet away, and chucked in her milk carton. "Score!"

The bell – which was coincidentally just above our heads – went off with an enormous clatter. We both clamped our hands over our ears, trying to block out the horrendous sound, but it didn't work. We both ran, me having to take one hand off of my head in order to pick up the cardboard – I mean nachos – and dump them in the garbage.

* * *

"Theresa, it's time to eat!"

I looked up from the book I was reading. "Just a sec!" I hollered back. As usual, I had to make a mad dash around the room for a bookmark. I found one, stuffed it into my book, tucked the book under my arm, and raced downstairs.

"Theresa!" my mom bellowed again just as I reached the bottom of the steps. "There-" She saw me. "Oh, there you are. Come set the table."

I groaned, but followed her out of the kitchen. I didn't argue with my parents. Not usually, anyway.

There was no sign of my older brother Chris in the kitchen. Sighing, I pulled some napkins out of the holder and went about setting the table. Willow had been picked up by her mom about an hour ago, and I was still wishing she were here to talk to.

"Hey Mom, can you turn on the radio?" asked Chris as he walked in the back door.

"Sure, honey," Mom said absently, reaching up and hitting the power button of the radio that resided on the top of our refrigerator. "Theresa, can you get some flour out of the freezer? There's no more in the can."

As I walked by Chris and into the other room, I dropped a handful of silverware into his hands. "Merry Christmas!" I said cheerily. "And Happy Birthday!"

All I got from that was a scowl deeper than the one he usually directed at me.

When I came back, bag of flour in hand, my brother was sitting in the comfy chair and listening intently to the radio, just like he did every night. I dropped the bag of flour onto the counter, then picked up the silverware – which was lying on a corner of the table – and proceeded to distribute it about the table. I hadn't really expected Chris to do it, but I sometimes have this little thing that lives inside my heart that I like to call 'hope'.

I heard the computer chair rolling, and a few seconds later my father walked into the room and sat down at the table. He started chatting with Mom, and Chris gave him a glare to match the ones he gave me. I guess he couldn't hear the radio. Neither could I, for that matter. I decided at that point to be gracious, so I turned it up.

"There has been another vote on the Mutant Registration Act today…"

As quickly as I had turned it up, my father turned it off. "That's not good dinnertime listening," he said cheerfully. Both Chris _and _I glared at him that time, and he flinched visibly.

"I was listening to that," Chris said quietly. It was the first time I had heard him speak in about a week.

"Why do you listen to that, anyway?" my mother asked him. "All anybody talks about on the news now is the mutant problem, and that's not very interesting, since we don't like mutants and we know that the vote is going towards registration, and definitely not as wholesome as good old fashioned dinner table talk."

I decided at that point that the scowl was going to be stuck on Chris's face permanently, and that his glare would eventually fry someone's brain. "I'm not hungry," he growled. Then he marched out of the room and up the stairs. Mom harrumphed and followed him.

"Honestly, how rude," Dad said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Do we get glasses, Theresa, or are we going to have to lap up our water out of bowls like dogs?"

"Oh, sorry," I said, reaching up and opening the cabinet where we kept the glasses. "Maybe you shouldn't have shut off the radio."

He shook his head. "He shouldn't spend so much time listening to that stuff," he said. "For all that he cares about that Registration Act, even though it's going to go through and there's no point in listening to updates, somebody who didn't know him might think he was a mutant himself."

I turned my head from the sink and stared at him. "Why don't you like mutants?" I asked quietly, almost sounding like my brother. "Why do you care so much about the Registration Act anyway? Why do you think that it will pass?"

"Well, honey, because mutants are dangerous and terrible people, and – "

I never got to find out what he was about to say, because at that moment, screaming erupted from upstairs and stopped all conversation.

"Am I not allowed to decide that I'm not hungry and I want to sit up here and listen to the news?"

"Well, Chris Andrew, you are going to have to sit down there at that supper table with the rest of the family, without the news, even if you're not hungry!" I didn't think Mom had ever gotten that mad at someone before, except for maybe me when I was six and had cut up all her bras and used them to make doll clothes.

"You know what? I hate you! I hate you all! You and Dad and Theresa! You're all trying to make me into something I'm not! Why can't you let me be myself for a change?" I heard something slam against the wall, and though I couldn't begin to guess at what it was, it sounded heavy.

"You're one of _them_?" my mother shrieked.

"Why do you care, Mom?" Chris shouted back. "Why would it matter? Wouldn't you treat me just the same? Wouldn't I still be your son? Wouldn't I? Huh? HUH?"

Then the shouting stopped. Everything in the house was silent. Everything was motionless. Could Chris really be a mutant? However, if he was, I couldn't blame him. My parents hated mutants with as much passion as…well, a cat hates swimming. That was the best analogy I could come up with.

But, as funny as it sounded, I felt rather close to him as he came down the stairs. I could almost feel the anger and the pain at what had just happened, the fear of being disowned, or worse, killed. Then I shook my head, and the feeling was gone as quickly as it had come.

Needless to say, the rest of the night was spent in almost total silence.


	2. Hate Me

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the X-Men. However, Chris, Theresa, and the woods belong to me. 

A/N: Pretty please don't hate Chris. I understand that he's just a wee bit...well, cold and hateful. But please don't hate him. Not yet.

**Chapter 2 – Hate Me**

I woke up the next morning with a headache. It wasn't one of those 'oh-my-God-my-head-is-going-to-explode' headaches, but it was strong enough to be annoying. I got out of bed and stretched, savoring the fact that it was a Saturday morning, and I could be in my pajamas until about ten o'clock.

I pulled on my bathrobe (which is crimson, and I love it because it is so soft and fuzzy) and went downstairs into the kitchen. My first order of business was to get some Advil, which I swallowed dry. Then I went looking for breakfast. I pulled open the cupboard just to the left of the lazy Susan and peeked inside. After I shoved several of my mother's boxes of "healthy" cereals out of the way, I found what I was looking for: Fruit Loops.

"You shouldn't eat that sugar," Mom said, walking into the kitchen as I pulled the box out. She pushed past me and relieved me of the box, shoving it back in the cupboard. Then she proceeded to take out one of _her_ cereals out and hand it to me. "This tastes just as good, and it's so much better for you."

I made a face and handed the box back to her. "No thanks, Mom, I think I'll just go out and eat some leaves."

"That's a healthy choice as well," she said brightly. "Just don't eat Poison Oak – we have one in the backyard."

Oh, thank you for telling me. Now I was going to go out there and commit suicide. Not. However, since I had said that I would, I exited out the back door and looked up at one of the maple trees that grew in abundance everywhere on our lawn. "Here goes," I muttered. I reached for a leaf, but just as I was about to pluck it off, something fell on my hand. I small, brown, insect-type something, that happened to have pinchers on its front half.

That was when I decided to drop the leaf idea, scream bloody murder (which probably woke the neighbors) and run as fast as I could in the other direction.

Ever since I was about eleven or twelve, I have had a morbid fear of earwigs. There was no particular reason – they just freaked me out. Maybe it was the name. There was nothing too endearing about a little bug that could crawl into your ear and pinch your brain. Maybe it's the little pincers. Maybe it's the fact that I don't have anything else to be freaked out by. Of course, earwigs had to like the same things I did – rope and trees. A year ago, I had put a rope into a tree so that I could climb. Now I was too scared even to climb the tree again in order to chop the rope down with an axe, because the earwig population had gotten out of control in the hollow space just above the knots. And did I mention that I _stuck my hand in them_?

I heard a dry, low laugh coming from somewhere near the house. I turned around and saw Chris sitting against the wall watching me. "They're more scared of us than we are of them," he said quietly.

I glared daggers at him. "It decided to turn off the radio," I shot back.

Chris stood up. "Shut up," he growled.

I took a few steps closer. "You shut up," I said, my voice just as low and quiet. You could only see the relation when we were both mad, I swear.

We were both glaring at each other now. Then Chris turned on his heel and left, heading towards the woods. I turned just as quickly and marched back into the house. Mom wasn't in the kitchen, and I had sugar for breakfast.

* * *

I was halfway through my Geometry homework when I felt strange. Not sick, just…strange. And my headache abandoned me.

However, as my headache left, an overwhelming feeling of anger and sadness and hatred and pain took its place.

I dropped my pencil and put my head in my hands. I felt angry and sad and hateful and pained, but…I didn't. It wasn't me. It was someone else.

Then, as quickly as it started, the flash of emotion was gone. In a moment, the headache came back, too.

I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking about what had just happened. Then I closed my book, slipped on my shoes and left the house. I needed to go for a walk. In the woods.

* * *

"Chris?" I called, weaving through the closely spaced pine trees. "Chris?"

Silence. Complete and utter silence.

"Chris?" I yelled again. Then I made a sharp right turn. I knew where he was. It was a place we both knew about, but I generally avoided. Unfortunately, I had completely forgotten why.

I remembered quite well when I had taken about three steps through sucking mud – and began to sink! I now recalled why I hated it here, and I also recalled now that it had a bottom, but I would be up to my waist before I stopped.

"Chris!" I shrieked, exactly as I had four years before.

When I was ten, Chris and I had gone exploring and happened upon this charming little sinkhole. Being foolish children, we both started gamely wading through it. Chris, whose legs were longer and stronger, had managed to get to the little grove of trees in the center. I however, being a bit…wimpier…than him, didn't manage to go more than five feet. So I had screamed for him, and he had waded back to me and helped me out. Then, though, the mud went up to my chest. But, Chris had dragged me out. I almost thought he had gotten stuck himself, but he didn't.

Of course, all this happened before he got all moody and obsessed with the news. Now he just sulked around everywhere looking like one of the stereotypical "bad kids" from school with the dark hoodies and the headphones.

"Chris!" I screamed again, flailing my arms in an attempt to swim through the muck. "I know you're here, Chris! Help me!"

Then I heard something, a sound I hadn't heard before, and I felt Chris's arms behind me, pulling me up and out of the mud.

"Quit squirming," he commanded me moodily, and I went as limp as I could. Then the mud lost its grip on my ankles, and I went flying – up? What?

"Chris?" I was beginning to be frightened now. I could hear something that sounded suspiciously like wingbeats behind me, and I almost didn't want to think what I was thinking. "Chris, what's going on?"

Then we tilted and changed directions, heading towards the middle of the sinkhole pit. That wasn't the place where I really wanted to be. "Where are we going? What are you doing?"

As we got closer to the little stand of trees, I could see a small platform supported between three of the trees. Chris's hoodie and T-shirt were on top of it, as were his headphones.

"I'm getting you out of a sinkhole, that's what I'm doing," Chris growled in my ear. I was lying horizontal now, supported only by my brother's grip. I didn't want to risk making him any angrier, since he might not hesitate to drop me back into the mud.

By the time we managed to get to the little tree house, for lack of a better word, I was extremely rattled. Chris set me down near the edge, and for a moment all I could do was shake and shiver. Then I turned around.

Chris was standing there, just as I had expected. There was something I hadn't expected – the huge, light brown, feathery wings that were connected to his back! Now I knew how he had managed to get me out of the mud so easily.

He spread his arms, a dim echo to his wings. "You can hate me now," he said quietly. "Just like our dear parents will when you tell them."

I shook my head. "No," I whispered. "I don't hate you."

The wings gave an irritable flick as they folded, and Chris put his shirt back on. "Yes, you do. You have to. I'm a _mutant_." He spat the word out as if it carried a disease. "I'm disgusting."

"No, you're not," I said, my voice getting stronger. "You may be a mutant, but you're not disgusting. You're beautiful." I stepped forward and put my hand on his shoulder.

He pulled away. "Go away, Theresa," he said, his voice dropping back down to its normal range. "Run from me."

"I can't." It was the truth – I couldn't get across this God-forsaken swamp without some major help, which would most likely have to come from him. He could, after all, fly.

He grumbled something and pulled his T-shirt off again to expose his wings. "And _don't_ come back here after this," he threatened. "I won't save you next time." Then he grabbed me and we were soaring.

In the few moments that we were airborne, I put my hand on his, the only comfort I could give. In that second, I felt things flash across my mind, emotions that weren't mine. A dull ache at the hatred of the world, anger, sadness, and hidden beneath all of them, a tiny spark of hope. Then they were gone, just as suddenly as they came.

Chris set me down several yards from the mud. "Goodbye." Then he took off back to his hideaway, leaving me alone in the woods again.

* * *

"What happened?" my mother asked as I walked in the back door. "We've been worried sick! And how did you get so muddy?"

I pulled my sneakers off and walked carefully out of the laundry room. "I…uh…kinda went into the woods and found a bit of a swamp. I waded in then had to wade back out again." I left out Chris helping me in any way, because that would mean hard questions when he got home.

"We told both you and Chris not to go into the woods after the last time you found a swamp," Dad said sternly. "You didn't see him out there, did you?"

"No," I lied. "I don't know where he is." That, at least, was the truth. Seeing as he could fly, he could be anywhere by now. Heck, he could be in _Mexico_ by now.

Mom sighed. "Well, go get changed out of those clothes, honey, then come down and have some lunch."

I walked up to my room gingerly so as not to drop mud everywhere. As I changed, I curled my lip at my all-pink room, decorated when I was just a baby. I had a few posters up on the walls, but not enough to hide the pink. I silently cursed my uptight parents for not letting me change the room. "It has sentimental value to us," they explained. It didn't have any "sentimental value" to me, that's for sure. That place was U-G-L-Y. However, Chris's room was powder blue, so it wasn't just my problem.

There was a small hum of voices coming up through the pink-carpeted floor. I grabbed a large bowl off my dresser (I used it to hold excess jewelry that seems to magically accumulate in my room for some reason), emptied it out, and pressed it against the floor. That really brought the sound out.

"Our son is a _mutant_?"

"I'm not sure. He pretty much said so last night, and I found feathers on his bed when I went up there to clean this morning after he stomped out of the house." Oh yes, Dad the cleaning freak. He used to clean my room, but he gave up when I kept messing it back up. Now he only comes in about once a year.

"I never would have thought…_our son_! What are we going to do?"

"We'll let it slide for now, Norma, but if it turns out that he really is a…one of _them_, we may have to do something drastic."

"Like what, George?"

"We'll have to decide when the time comes."

I stood up and put the bowl back on the dresser. I didn't want to know what they were going to do to Chris – and even if he didn't like me, I had to warn him. Of course, I would have to do it later.

I meandered back downstairs after a few minutes, and found my parents discussing whether it was going to snow before Christmas. I didn't really care. We lived in the northern part of Maine, and I wasn't going to worry about whether it would snow. It was a really bad cover-up conversation on their part.

"Have some lunch, dear. We got macaroni and cheese the other day for you."

Sometimes I really hate my parents: their viewpoints on mutants (which I did _not_ share) _and_ their sugary-sweet attitudes. Why couldn't I have been born into Willow's family instead?


	3. The Will of God

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, and I definitely don't own the church.

A/N: Thanks to everybody that reviewed. You have my deepest thanks. Please forgive me if I mess up a little bit on the church bit - I don't go to church, so I don't really know much about it. If there's some glaring error, please point it out. Also, don't get offended from this point on - I don't think church is evil or anything, it's just the way the story started going. I repeat: I have NOTHING against church.**  
**

Chapter 3 – The Will of God

"Chris," my mom said after my brother and I staggered down the stairs on Sunday morning, "you are_not_ wearing that…_delinquent_ clothing to church!"

He shrugged. "I'm not goin', then."

Mom huffed, but said, "Fine. But if Pastor John is angry, you have to take it on your own."

Chris shrugged again. "Whatever."

I turned and smiled at him. He just glared at me out of the corner of his eye and bared his teeth at me. I had to admit, the bulky black pullover did an excellent job of hiding his wings. I sighed. The wings were so beautiful…why should he have to cover them up? I thought it was quite sad.

"Right. Let's all get in the car." Dad shooed Chris and me out the door, and we both clambered into the tiny car.

I couldn't fathom why my parents had decided to get a Vibe – I really couldn't. It has to be one of the smallest cars in the history of mankind, and our family…well, our family _isn't_ small. I'm five-foot seven and almost all leg, and Chris is built along the same lines. We both had our legs constantly pressed up against the front seats.

"Come on, children – " both Chris and I made a face at being called 'children' " – let's be cheery. It's a beautiful morning and we're going to church to be in the light of God!"

I decided not to point out that the church said that you were _always_ in the light of God, if you even believed he existed, and that it wasn't beautiful out. Rather, it was rainy, dark, and dreary out. I also didn't mention that, technically, Chris (sixteen) and I (fourteen) were no longer 'children' and were considered by most to be 'teens' or 'teenagers'.

Chris reacted to their comment by grumbling and turning to stare out the rain-streaked window. I quickly followed his example and attempted to zone out as my mother turned on some of the obnoxious Christian music that they _insisted_ on playing.

Three years ago, before Chris got…upset…the two of us were talking about God, and realized that we didn't actually believe in him – he was just a mystical figure neither of us had seen, and neither of us really thought existed. Of course, Mom and Dad didn't know that, and we did go to church every week like good little children. The only difference was, we didn't believe a word of it.

I really never knew why I didn't like Christianity. I think the reason may have been that the Bible put down strict laws governing every silly aspect of life, and I absolutely despise being ordered around. Maybe it was because if God were truly the good God that they said he was, he would overlook the fact that you didn't believe exactly what he wanted you to and wouldn't send you into giant wars to knock out populations. Maybe I just got sick of church.

I traced the path of a raindrop with my finger. What did the church think of mutants?

* * *

As luck would have it, Pastor John decided to discuss mutants that very day. 

"A mutant," he called across the congregation in that way that only church-people can do, "is Satan's living tool to take away our God-given freedom and willpower! Mutancy is not a genetic defect, or a disease; it is a Satanic possession that must be removed!

"There is no way to remove the Devil from a person unless that person that person stands before God and begs for forgiveness!

"Mutants must be destroyed, no matter what the cost. If God asks us to wage war upon these minions of Satan, we shall do it, and we shall be ready!"

Pastor John paused for breath. "Open your hymn books…"

I tuned him out and looked over at Chris to see how he was taking this. He had the same impassive look on his face as ever, but I felt something different behind it. It was fear. Fear and anger, and just a little tiny bit of confusion.

I shook my head to clear it, and the feelings went away. How did I know this?

"Honey?" Mom said quietly. "Are you feeling alright?"

I rubbed my temples. "I just have a headache, that's all."

"I'll get you some Aspirin as soon as we get home," she promised.

I think that my parents need to stop worrying so much about other peoples' business.

* * *

Apparently the church decided that today was going to be mutant-discussion day, because our Sunday School teacher started talking about them as well. 

"Now, who can tell me exactly what a mutant is on non-religions terms?" Mrs. Penn asked. In my opinion, she was rather condescending, but then, all teachers were. She was at least better than Mrs. Nenna.

Joey raised his hand. "A mutant is someone who…can do different stuff than the rest of us," he said.

"Very good, Joey. You all heard Pastor John this morning, correct?"

We all nodded. I held back a yawn. This was going to be boring.

"How can you tell if a person is a mutant?"

Joey raised his hand again. "Because they look different."

Mrs. Penn nodded again. "Very good, Joey. Most of them do look different than the rest of us. Can anyone give an example of a mutation that might make someone look different?"

My hand flew up of its own accord. "Wings."

"Very good, Theresa." Mrs. Penn smiled. "What about the ones that don't look different?"

Silence. Complete, bone-chilling silence.

I timidly raised my hand. "Psychic?" I said quietly.

"Yes, child, a psychic would most likely look the same. These _creatures_, the telepaths especially, are the worse type of mutant." Oh great. I sensed a lecture coming on. "They are the most dangerous, for they can control your mind, read your thoughts, and take away your God-given free will. They, above all, must be exterminated."

Oh my word…I didn't know until she said it, but what did telepaths do? They could read your mind, yes, but could they also read your emotions? Could they see your memories? I shivered. There was so much in my head that the rest of the world just shouldn't know. What if a telepath came along and told everyone? Maybe that type of mutant _is_ dangerous.

I shook my head slightly. Anything is dangerous if used incorrectly. Even wings. I couldn't go around judging people like that. I would leave that job to somebody else.

"Theresa!" My mind snapped back to the lesson. "Are you paying attention?"

"Yes, Mrs. Penn."

* * *

"Well, children, what did you think of Pastor John's speech about mutants?" Dad asked on the way home. 

I yawned; Chris just grunted.

"Now," my mother said, "if the people in the government were good, _Christian_ leaders, they would stop all the pussyfooting about this Mutant Registration Bill and simply put out an arrest warrant for all the mutants. If they would listen to God's messages, they would declare war on them."

I pushed back the little voice in my head that was screaming that there was supposed to be a separation of Church and State. I didn't want to get in trouble just now. I shot Chris a look, just so that he would remember not to give himself away. He looked rather annoyed, and I didn't want my parents to end up disowning him or handing him over to the church to be stoned or something terrible like that.

Luckily, he kept his mouth shut. To my great relief, so did my parents. One more comment from them and we both would have exploded.

* * *

"Aren't you going to eat anything, Theresa?" Mom asked at supper that night. "The chicken is delicious." 

I nodded absently and picked at my peas a little more. "Sure Mom."

Dad looked at me and raised one eyebrow. "Do you still have that headache your mother was telling me about, Theresa?"

"Yes." The headache had been haunting me all day. It wasn't terrible or anything, but it was incredibly annoying. I had taken quite a bit more Aspirin than I probably should have, but it just wouldn't go away. I had to wonder how I would get to sleep later.

"If you're not going to eat, dear, why don't you just go up to bed and take a nap?" My mom took my plate. "Go on. You're excused."

I stood up and walked dazedly out of the room. Chris gave me a parting glare that I could almost feel against my back. I staggered up the stairs and fell on my bed with as big a thump as somebody that weighs one hundred thirty pounds possibly can. And, despite the headache, I fell asleep within five minutes. I was just so darn…tired…

* * *

In my dream, my parents were sitting in the living room talking. At first I couldn't hear what they were saying – in fact, I couldn't hear anything – but after a few moments I could hear it all. 

"You don't think that Theresa's a mutant, too, do you?" Mom whispered worriedly.

Dad took her hand. "We don't even know that Christopher's a mutant, Alice. With any luck, this will all turn out to be one big misunderstanding and our children will both be fine." He lifted his head. "Besides – both our children are Christian – they have nothing to fear, nor do we."

"I hope not." A tear trickled down my mother's cheek. "I couldn't bear to do anything to my babies…but if I have to…"

I awoke a little while later to someone shaking my arm. I opened my eyes and saw Chris standing above my bed. "Mom and Dad say you have to go brush your teeth," he grunted. Then he turned around and left.

Yawning, I stood up and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. I snagged my toothbrush out of the holder and rinsed it thoroughly. I had done that ever since Chris had decided to spray it with some of my body spray and I ended up with fruity breath.

After I brushed my teeth, I went back to my room and put on my PJs. Unfortunately, all of my nice, _warm_ pajamas were in the laundry, so I had to make do with a pair of short ones that had rabbits all over them. Then I crawled into bed before I froze. It was cold in my room, just like it was every November. The only thing I did that exposed any skin after was that was reaching out to turn on my CD player. Then I fell asleep, the classical music washing over me.


	4. Anniversary

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, don't own the church, but I do own a hoodie similar to Chris's that my mom yells at me for wearing.

A/N: I hope this chapter redeems me. That last chapter really, for lack of a better word, sucked. It'll get better, I promise. I'll probably be going through and fixing a few minor issues after my beta (go gaelicdragon!) gets her printer fixed and helps me out, just so you know.

**Chapter 4 – Anniversary**

"Rise and shine, children!" My mother paraded around the top story of the house, flinging open all the shades, curtains, and doors.

I groaned and turned over onto my stomach and buried my face in my pillow, trying to block out the sunlight streaming in my windows.

Mom pulled my pillow out from under my head. "Up-up-up! It's a gorgeous day, and you and Christopher have to help me cook!"

Oh yeah – today was my parents' anniversary, wasn't it? I rolled back over and sat up. After a good amount of stretching and eye rubbing, I stood up and grabbed my bathrobe off the edge of my door.

"Chris!" Mom yelled through his door as I stepped out into the hall. "Get up!" She twisted the knob, but the door was locked. "Christopher! Open the door this instant!"

We waited for a full five minutes before Chris emerged from his room, dressed, as always, in his big black hoodie.

"Really, Chris, do you have to wear that hateful…sweater?"

He stared at her. "Yes."

Mom put her hands on her hips. "You're not hiding something under that thing, are you?" she asked suspiciously.

Chris's face was just as impassive as ever. "No."

"Fine," Mom huffed. She marched off towards the stairs. "Now, we all need to go get started on making the anniversary supper for this afternoon. I expect you both downstairs in the kitchen in ten minutes. No dawdling." Then she went back downstairs.

Chris turned and glared at me. "You told her," he said flatly.

"What?" I shook my head. "Why on earth would I do that?"

He shrugged. "Dunno." Then he meandered lazily down the hall and down the stairs.

I stuck my tongue out at his back and went back inside my room to change. Since I knew my mom would want something dressier than what I usually wore, I took out my drabbest windpants and a gray hoodie over a bland T-shirt. I loved fighting back in subtle ways.

"Honey, get out of that…that _horrible_ clothing!" Mom said as I walked down the stairs. "You look as bad as Chris."

I rolled my eyes, which was another subtle rebellion. "Well, we are related, after all. So far as I know, anyway."

Mom just sighed and turned back to the many cookbooks spread out across the table. "Theresa, you're in charge of dessert." Goodie. I got to stare at chocolate for a while. "Chris, you can do the salad." Good choice. Give him something where he had no excuse to stick his head into the oven or try to stick someone else's head into the oven.

"Pick your cookbooks, children. Let's get baking!"

Just shoot me now.

* * *

"You know, Chris, you can't just put lettuce in a bowl and call it a salad. You actually have to put things like shredded carrots and stuff like that."

Chris glared at me. "Shut up. I'll make a salad however I darn well please."

I shrugged. "It still needs something other than lettuce."

"You know what? Fine." With that, he walked over to the fridge, got out some Italian dressing, and dumped some on top of his lettuce. "Happy?"

"No."

He bared his teeth. "Fine. Gimme some of that." He pointed at the bowl where I was mixing brownie batter.

I snatched it away. "No! This is _my_ food, not yours! Don't go messing with it, you hear?"

Chris ignored me and snatched a spoon off the counter. Before I could stop him, he grabbed a spoonful of batter and dumped it onto the salad.

"Chris," I moaned, "you just wrecked the salad. That batter's got eggs in it."

He shrugged. "They don't know the difference." He walked by me again and got some sliced carrots out of the fridge. "Here. Just to make you happy."

I snorted. "It'll take more than carrots to make me happy. You need so much stuff… Try some meat." I reached into the fridge and grabbed some sandwich meat and cheese and passed them to my brother.

"Why would someone want to put meat in a salad?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "The point of salads is to give people their vegetables in the most painful way possible. Meat doesn't belong in a salad."

I sighed. "Here. You make the brownies, I'll handle the salad." We switched places, and I immediately rinsed the salad. After all, there was brownie batter and Italian dressing in there – neither of those items had any place in a decent salad.

When I turned back around, my eyes nearly left my head. "Chris! What the heck are you doing?"

He had somehow managed to get much of the batter on the counter and his hoodie. "I'm making brownies, just like you told me to."

"We want to have batter to pour into the pan when we're done, not a mess on the counter! And you _are_ aware that you're hoodie's gonna need to be washed, aren't you?"

Chris's eyes got wide. "Oh, crap." He started rubbing at it frantically. "Get me a washcloth, Theresa, don't just stand there!"

I considered not doing it, but he had saved me from the mud yesterday, so I owed him. I gave him a washcloth.

"Shit!" he growled. "It won't come out!"

"You can borrow mine tomorrow while it gets washed," I offered.

He shook his head. "No, I'll just wear this one until Mom and Dad force me to wash it. Then I'll pray for a quick death."

I couldn't help but worry. What would happen when they did ask him to wash it, and forced him to take it off in front of them? My first instinct said this: bad things…

* * *

"You're putting too many candles on the table, Theresa. What are you trying to do, set the house on fire?"

I stuck my tongue out at Chris. "There is no such thing as too many candles, Chris. I'm just making up for the lack of electric light that this room will soon have."

He shrugged. "Whatever."

Personally, it felt a little odd to have Chris following me about the room lighting candles as I put them down. I was a little worried he'd light my hair on fire or something. I pushed back the small worry and decided to focus on finding good spots for my remaining three candles instead. I turned around to look at the room –

And ran my nose into the tip of the long-necked lighter. Which was on.

I screamed and fanned my nose. "You moron!"

For the first time in months, something other than impassivity – sheepishness. "Sorry." That was something I hadn't heard for a while.

I ran over to the sink, stuck my face under the faucet, and ran cold water over my nose. "God, that hurt."

"Well, that oughta teach you not to run into lighters, dummy." Well, Chris was back to normal – sarcastic and emotionless. How fun.

"Children?" Mom called from the doorway. "Are you done yet?"

I set down the last candle and stood aside for Chris to light it. "Come on in!" I called, trying to sound cheery.

Mom came in, pulling Dad behind her. "It's beautiful, children." She glanced at the table: two places were set. "You're not staying to eat with us?"

"No!" we said in unison. The year before, they had gotten so mushy and disgusting that I had gotten up and left. I didn't want to go through that again.

"We'll save you some food," Dad promised.

Then I bolted. Before you could say "lovebirds" I was up the stairs and standing outside of Chris's door, which was locked.

"What are you doing?" Chris asked, coming up the stairs behind me. "No matter how much you stare at it, it's not gonna open."

I crossed my arms. "I wanted to talk to you." There were a few things that I just had to get off my mind.

He leaned against the wall. "Fine. We can talk right here. What's so important?"

"Don't be so afraid," I said quietly.

Chris bristled. "I am _not_ afraid!"

I took a step closer. "Yes, you are. You're frightened, you're confused, and you're in pain."

"No, I'm not." He took a key out of his pocket, shoved by me, and stuffed it into the old-fashioned keyhole of his door. The lock opened with a small click, and he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Before he could shut it again, I followed him in.

"Go _away_, Theresa!" he snarled at me. For an instant, I felt what he must have been feeling: anger, fear, confusion, pain, and, barely existent and almost indistinguishable, a little bit of hope and love. That made me feel a little better. I was still a little bit worried about this conversation.

On some unknown instinct, I reached my mind towards his.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," I whispered as our minds touched.

I felt a flood of emotions and thoughts go from his mind to mine. There was panic there. He was afraid I would find something. _Don't find them, don't find them, please don't find them…_

I cocked my head at him. It wasn't like him to beg and plead. "What is it you don't want me to find?"

Now the panic was written across his face. I lost the connection to him, and my mind refused to try to get it back.

"How do you know I'm hiding something?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

I shook my head. "I don't know." I pressed my back against the door. "What _is_ it that you don't want me to see?"

"Get out," he said through gritted teeth. "It's none of your business."

Before he decided I needed to be removed from his room by force, I yanked open the door and ran. The door slammed shut behind me, and I heard the lock click.

I went into my own room and sat on the bed, shaking. How could I have known what he was thinking? Could I possibly be…? No. I couldn't be.

I fell asleep with that question on my mind.


	5. Are You There?

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, I don't own the church, and I don't own the title of this chapter (stolen from my best friend - she used it as a story title on FictionPress).

A/N: Hmmm...I really don't have much to say here, other than Jack (gaelicdragon) is still working on beta-ing my story.

**Chapter 5 – Are You There?**

"Chris, if you must wear that dreadful…thing, you at least have to wash it. It looks like you got chocolate on it."

Chris glared at our mother. "I don't want to wash it."

She glared right back at him. "I have had enough of this rebellion, young man. You take that hateful thing off and put it in the washing machine this instant!"

With one last withering glare, Chris marched off into the laundry room. He sprinted out several minutes later, racing for the stairs.

"Christopher Andrew!" Mom yelled, chasing after him as fast as she could go while still being dignified.

Within seconds, I heard the sound of a door slamming. Chris obviously locked it behind him, because Mom kept screaming.

"Christopher Andrew Scott, unlock this door right now. You hear me? Open up!"

I shook my head. This could not be good.

* * *

"Chris?" I called softly through the door. "Chris? Will you let me in?" 

"Go away!" he yelled back.

I refrained from trying to knock the door down. "Mom took your hoodie after it came out of the wash," I told him. "And…she…uh…chopped it up."

The door opened slightly and Chris stuck his head out. I held up a grocery bag apologetically. "Let me in?"

He sighed and opened the door wider. I went in and handed him the bag. "I saved the pieces…" He dumped the bag out on the bed and stared at the tiny black pieces of cloth.

"She really killed it," I said quietly. I held out my orange hoodie. "Here."

Chris shook his head. "It won't hide them, Theresa." He wasn't even trying to pretend that he wasn't panicking now. It was very plain on his face and in his eyes. "I'm dead now." He picked up a few pieces and attempted to put them back together, then threw them back on the bed. "I might as well shoot myself."

I shook my head. "No! Everything'll turn out alright, you see. They'll…they'll see reason! I know it!" Actually, I didn't think they'd see anything remotely resembling reason on the topic of mutants, but I was desperate to cheer us both up.

"No, everything won't turn out alright. They're probably going to try to kill me or disown me or something like that. It's hopeless." He opened the door again. "Go on. You'll probably going to get in trouble for being in here." He shooed me out. "Go."

Jeez. Friendly. Even if I _was_ going to get in trouble, that was no way to boot me out.

* * *

"Theresa, why did Chris let you into his room and not us?" 

"What?" I lied. "He didn't let me into his room. I tried to get in, but he wouldn't open the door. I left his hoodie outside his door, and he must have gotten it after I left."

"So you haven't actually seen him?" Mom asked worriedly.

I shook my head. "No, I haven't."

"Do you know if he's even in there any more? There hasn't been a sound from in there."

"I don't know, Mom. For all I know he died." Well, I didn't exactly lie, because he did talk about shooting himself, and could be dead.

"Oh, I'm so worried…"

Personally, I thought that when they found out that he had wings, they might not be so worried anymore.

"Chris! It's time for supper! Chris! Come out of there and come eat!"

"If he didn't come down for lunch, he's probably not coming down for supper," I observed quietly.

Mom whirled on me. "You be quiet, young lady!" she yelled at me, a bit touchier than she ought to have been. "Chris!"

I sighed and went back to my table setting. Not that I missed having Chris around too much with this chore – he had never really done anything. I guess I just missed the fact that he was there.

With a sigh, Mom turned around and went back to the stove. "I guess he's not hungry," she huffed, stirring the spaghetti rather more roughly than required. "If he starves up there, that's his own silly fault. Oh, when I get my hands on that boy…"

The back door opened, and I heard Dad come in. "Hello," he called. "How is everyone?"

"Fine," I said tiredly. That was my answer to all those questions involving how I felt: fine. If you say anything else, people want explanation. At least, that's the way it was in my house.

He came out of the laundry room. "Where's Chris?" he asked, his eyes sweeping the kitchen.

"Up in his room. He won't come out, and he's been there ever since I told him to wash his…_thing_. After he did, I chopped up the disgusting thing. It serves him right for running off without that hateful object. Now he can't wear it anymore."

I looked up. "Why don't you just call it a _hoodie_ like everyone else?"

"Because that's not proper English, dear."

I resisted the urge to start rambling about proper grammar. Instead, I counted to fifty slowly in my head while putting the glasses and silverware on the table. _One, two, three, four, five…_ Other thoughts threatened to invade my brain, and I pushed them back. _Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ELEVEN, TWELVE, THIRTEEN – _

"Dear?" Mom looked over at me. "Why are you counting?"

Oops. Did I say those numbers out loud? I didn't think that I did, but I guess I must have. No more counting. Just deep breaths. I wished Chris were here for about the tenth time since I had started – his ranting about the radio would have been a nice distraction for my over-picky parents.

* * *

That night, as I was getting into my newly washed polar fleece pajamas, I heard something hitting against my window. I had a screen. There should not have been anything actually hitting up against my window except for wind. 

When I was done, I went over and looked. Sure enough, there was something banging against my window. It was a key. A very old-fashioned looking key that I recognized as being the key to Chris's room. It had somehow ended up on a string between the screen and the window. I opened the window, ignoring the cold air, and pulled on it until the string broke and the key was free. Then I closed the window again.

I looked at the key more closely. There was a piece of paper wrapped around it. I unwrapped it and read the small print.

_Don't use it while they're looking._

Oh, Chris. What happened? I thought for a moment, then buried the key with the rest of the jewelry in the bowl on my dresser. Then I climbed into bed and turned on my CD player. Both my parents would be working tomorrow. I would have my chance then.


	6. With Love, Chris

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or the church. I also do not own "The Royal Court of Ditz", which I used in the first chapter, or "Just shoot me now", which I used in another chapter. Both belong to my good friend Jack (aka gaelicdragon).

A/N: I got my story beta-ed, I'll probably be going through and fixing once writers block hits. Happy reading!

**Chapter 6 – With Love, Chris**

I woke up to the sound of my mom's car driving out. We have gravel on our driveway, and it made very loud noises, which are enough to wake me up at 7:30 in the morning, especially if I didn't sleep well anyway.

I stood up and grabbed my bathrobe. Since my dad left at 5:30, there shouldn't be anyone in the house. I fished around in the bowl until I found the key, then went down the hall to Chris's door. My hand was shaking as I put the key into the keyhole and twisted. The lock released with a small _click_, and I opened the door.

The room was just like I remembered it, the only difference being the open closet door. That had to be what he was hiding. I stepped inside and looked into the closet.

I opened and closed my eyes a few times, just to make sure I was seeing this right. There was a big pile of feathers on the floor of the closet. And I mean a _huge_ pile. That's when I remember what happens to feathered beings: they molt. Then I noticed the piece of paper on top of the pile of feathers. I reached down, picked it up, and unfolded it.

_Dear Theresa,_

_I've decided to leave. I just couldn't hide it anymore. I put a note on my dresser for you to put on the kitchen table for our parents to find. It says something much different and much less interesting than this letter. Leave it sealed, though. You don't know about this until they do._

_First off, I want to tell you that I'm sorry for being such a…an ass, I guess. I guess…I guess that maybe you were right. I was scared._

_God…you have no idea how hard it is to pour my heart out to you, Theresa, but since I'll probably never actually see you again, I guess it doesn't matter._

_Do you remember when I was sick for two weeks in September? That's when I found that I molt. The thing I didn't want you to find that day was this pile of feathers in my closet. I don't know how you knew I was hiding something, but you were right. Maybe you're a mutant yourself. If you are, I wish you the best._

_So that you know, I put down planks by the sinkhole before I left, and I put up a rope ladder (just so that you don't have to stick your hands in rope knots). From now on, that can be your thinking spot._

_Don't try to contact me. If I find a place to live, I promise I'll write to you, and you can write back. Without telling Mom and Dad, of course._

_I wish it didn't have to be this way. Despite the fact that I was mean to you, you are my little sister, and I love you. And even though our parents are morons, I love them, too._

_With love,_

_Chris_

_P.S. When you're done reading this, take a garbage bag, put my feathers in it, and take it out to the tree house. I don't want Mom and Dad to find them._

_P.P.S. Don't let them have the key, either. I think it locks your door, too._

I just sat there for a minute, trying to take it all in. Then I realized: Chris was gone. A water droplet landed on the middle of the page. Another one followed it, and another, and another and another, until I had the sense to set the letter aside and wipe my eyes. I just couldn't believe that he was gone. All my life, Chris had been my big brother; my rock; my anchor point, and suddenly he was just gone. Why did the world have to be so cruel?

I picked up a feather off the top of the pile and stared at it. It was long and slightly curved, light brown with darker specks. I knew enough about birds to tell that it was a flight feather. I tucked it into my hair. Then I stood up and looked on top of his dresser. There was a sealed envelope there, and I took it and walked out of the room.

After leaving the letter on the kitchen table, I went into the laundry room and grabbed a big black garbage bag. Just to be safe, I grabbed another one, too. Feathers may be light, but they take up a lot of space.

* * *

The feathers proved hard to put into a garbage bag. As they were light enough to float on a breath, I had trouble getting them all to go where I wanted them to. Some of them ended up on the bed, some of them went into my hair (I had put the one I wanted to keep in my room), some of them went all over the floor, and some of them ended up in other places. I spent nearly an hour picking them all up, though I only ended up needing one bag. 

When I was done packing them up, I bundled them all downstairs and out the back door. I had to retrace my steps a few times after I got to the door to make sure I hadn't missed any. It wouldn't do to have Mom or Dad find some after my careful planning to get them out of the house.

Finally I managed to lug the whole thing outside and into the woods, hoping the whole time that my parents wouldn't call while I was out. They would go berserk.

Then I was at the sinkhole. True to his word, Chris had put planks across the mud and set up a ladder to the tree house. I managed to lug the bag to the base of the ladder without losing too many feathers, then I was faced with the dilemma of how to get it up there. I couldn't throw it, and I didn't exactly know how to carry it. I finally managed to balance it on my head, which would have provided an amusing view for someone who wasn't actively doing it, and got it up the ladder that way.

After I deposited the bag in the middle of the platform, I sat on the edge of it opposite of the ladder and just looked out at the forest. To think that my brother once flew there… Why couldn't I fly, too? Then I could have gone with him.

I sighed and stood up. Sitting here thinking about him wasn't going to bring him back.

* * *

The phone rang once…twice…three times…then someone picked up. "Good afternoon, thank you for calling Walmart. How can I help you?" 

"Hi…can I talk to Alice Scott, please?"

"Yes, just a moment, please."

As the hold music (classical) played in my ear, I wondered exactly how mad my mother would be. When I got back inside she had left a message on the answering machine that said I was in trouble and that I had better call her as soon as possible.

I heard a click from the other end. "Honey?" my mom's voice asked.

"Hey mom," I said timidly.

"Theresa, where were you, I was so worried, I thought you had been kidnapped or murdered or something, why didn't you pick up?"

Pause for breath, Mom, before you die yourself. But I didn't say that. "I was listening to loud music on headphones in my room. I just didn't hear the phone."

Mom proceeded to launch into a long tirade about how I shouldn't listen to my music that loud because it will make my eardrums explode and I'll be deaf for the rest of my life, and how I should always be able to hear the phone when I'm home alone, and how she expected me to act like an adult when given a responsibility.

"Is that clear?" she asked finally.

"Yes," I told her. Truthfully, I hadn't heard half of what she had said.

"See you tonight, honey."

"Bye, Mom."

Why did she have to call me strange names and treat me like I was ten?

* * *

"What's for supper, Theresa?" Dad called, shutting the back door. 

I rolled my eyes. "Macaroni!" I called back. It was the only thing they really allowed me to make when I was home nearly alone, since it seemed to present a lack of injuries second only to salad.

"Sounds delicious! Chris, I hope you set the table while your sister was cooking!"

"He's not down here."

Dad walked out of the laundry room. "Chris!" he bellowed. "Get down here right now and help with supper!" Turning to me, he asked, "Has he been out of his room yet today?"

I shrugged. "I thought I saw him down here earlier," I lied.

"I'm going to give him a piece of my mind," Dad grumbled. Then he saw the envelope. "What's this?"

"I don't know," I said carefully, trying to look curious instead of apprehensive.

He picked it up and opened it. Inside was a sheet of plain notebook paper and a lumpy object.

"_Dear Family,_" he read. "_I have decided to leave. I cannot bear to be in a family that will not accept me for what I am. Do not look for me. I will not come back, and you will never hear from me again. Chris._" He tipped the envelope onto its end, and the lumpy object fell out. It was a light brown feather.

* * *

"We had a demon living in _our_ home! Our good, _Christian_ home!" Mom wailed. 

Dad patted her on the back. "Now now, dear, it'll be alright, it's gone now."

I nearly exploded right then. First off, they were calling Chris "_it_"? And they didn't seem to miss their own son? They only cared about the fact that they had a "demon" in their home and that "it" was now gone? I was about three inches away from screaming.

Mom came over and pulled me into a hug. "Can you believe that we're safe, and that God watches over our home once again? I suppose we can rejoice now that the evil demon has left us."

"Can I go to bed?" I asked timidly, trying my best to sound shaken.

Dad shooed me out. "Go on up, honey, don't forget to brush your teeth. You've had a little too much stress in a small amount of time. You deserve some sleep."

I trudged up the stairs with one thought on my mind: _How _could_ they?_


	7. Not So Thankful

Disclaimer: I don't own most of what I'm writing about. It can't get any simpler.

A/N: Just for some clarification, each chapter up 'til now has been one day, starting on Friday, November 18. It is now Thursday, November 24. Just putting that so you know...

**Chapter 7 – Not So Thankful**

"Wake up, Theresa! It's Thanksgiving!" Mom bounced into my room, as happy as ever.

I glared blearily up at her. "What I'd be thankful for," I mumbled sleepily, "is another few hours of sleep." Then I buried my face in my pillow again.

"Nonsense!" she sang, flinging open my curtains. "You have to help me cook! You'll need to do the dessert, the salad, and a side dish, and it's already ten o'clock! We eat at three, we don't have much time! Up!"

With a great show of moaning and groaning, I stood up and stretched. Mom left so I could change, then we went downstairs.

Again, I was assaulted by cookbooks. "All homemade, dear, no mixes," Mom said absently, glancing around. "Yes, just pick a recipe." She handed me three large cookbooks and drifted off towards the stove, which the turkey was sitting on top of.

I groaned and flipped open the first one: salads. That would be easy: lettuce slathered in Italian dressing.

* * *

"Do I smell turkey? And chocolate cake?"

It was two thirty in the afternoon, and I had not eaten all day. I was also forced to stand in a room full of turkey scents. That translated into grumpiness. _You would know what you smelled if you had helped us!_ I thought.

Mom rounded on me. "Theresa! That was very rude! Apologize!"

"What did I say?" I hadn't said anything, had I?

"You know what you said, young lady! Now go tell your father that you're sorry!"

I met Dad as he came through the laundry room door. "I'm sorry." Then I went back to frosting the cake that I had just pulled out of the oven.

This time I was sure I wasn't dreaming. Somehow they had heard exactly what I was thinking. But I hadn't said a word. What the heck?

* * *

After we said grace and before we ate, my remaining family decided that we should name something we're thankful for.

"I'm thankful that we no longer have Satan in this house." How Mom could think of that when she had lost her son, I couldn't fathom. But she did.

Dad cleared his throat. "I am thankful that God has watched over our daughter, and that she is pure."

They both turned and looked at me. "Theresa?"

"I'm thankful for…for…" What _was_ I thankful for? Not that the "demon" was gone, that was for sure. "I'm thankful for…all the good times," I said at last. That said something, and it didn't give anything away. It was good enough.

Mom nodded. "Let's eat."

The dishes were passed around with a bit more difficulty than usual, owing to the fact that Chris wasn't there. But, we managed. For some reason, my parents didn't seem remotely bothered by the fact that their _son_ had just _run away_. All they cared was that "Satan" had left their home. It made me glad that I was atheist.

Where was the salt shaker? Oh, it was hiding behind the turkey. I leaned over the table a little…and couldn't reach. Since it was smack in the middle, nobody else could, either. I wished for the millionth time that Chris was there.

I stretched out my fingers. Then, suddenly, the shaker slid about six inches and ended up right in my hand. What on _earth_? I quickly pulled back. Had that salt shaker actually come to me without my touching it? That was just downright strange. My hands shook as I salted the turkey, and I ended up with way too much salt on it. Great.

"Theresa, could you pass the salt?" Dad asked.

I nodded and handed the shaker to Mom, who handed it to Dad. I was rather glad to get the thing away from me.

There were so many questions I wanted to ask them, but I didn't dare to. What about _Chris_, my brother? Didn't they _miss_ him, at all? Not their demon-infested version, but the old one. He was their _son_! They _had _to miss him, at least a little bit.

I guess I had to carry the burden of missing him on my own.

* * *

"Honey, we think that you should keep a journal."

I stared at my mother. "Why?" I asked blankly.

Dad jumped in. "We've always heard that it's a good thing for a child who has been through trauma. Living with Satan is very traumatic, and we want to make sure you feel better."

"So you're going to read it?"

"Not if you don't want us to, dear."

I picked up the composition book off the coffee table. "So if I want, I can hide it somewhere? Lock it up?"

Mom pursed her lips and nodded. "If you really want to, sweetheart. It will be more enriching if you let us read it. Then we can help you with your emotions, but if you really don't want us to…" She shrugged.

* * *

Later that night, I laid in my bed and stared at the ceiling. Even though I was utterly exhausted, my thoughts refused to let me sleep, even with the help of my music. I could use that silly journal thing that Mom and Dad had given me, but I knew that they could easily read it before I woke up and know everything. And that wouldn't be good.

So, the questions continued to hum in my mind. What if I really _was_ a mutant? What would I do? Should I run away like Chris, or should I stay and try to be what I was before?

I looked around, trying to find a way to dispel the thoughts. After a moment, I remembered that Chris's feather was under my bed. I reached under and grasped wildly.. I held it between my hands, thinking of Chris as I did. It was comforting. I could almost feel Chris, his presence, his voice, just _him_. I closed my eyes and relaxed. He was here with me in spirit – I knew it.


	8. Tricks of the Mind

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, the church, or the_ Air Ferrets Aloft_, which is a book by Richard Bach, who I adore.

A/N: Since Jack asked, Theresa is on Thanksgiving break. So, if you were wondering, that's why she isn't going to school. Oh, and thanks again to Jack for beta-ing.

**Chapter 8 – Tricks of the Mind**

"Chris!" I called, scrambling over a huge log. I didn't know where I was, didn't know these woods. "Chris, are you here?" He could help me, I knew he could.

Suddenly I stumbled out into a clearing. In the middle, curled into a tight ball, was Chris. His wings were curled around his sleeping form. Even so, he was shivering.

I walked over to him and sat down. "Chris?" I tapped him on the shoulder. "Chris?"

He stirred. "Theresa?"

"Where are we?" I asked him. "How did I get here?"

"Where are you, Theresa?" He was looking through me. "I can hear you, but I can't see you."

I looked down and realized that I couldn't see me either. "I'm beside you. I don't know how I got here."

He reached out to touch me, but his hand went through where I thought I was. "I must be hallucinating," he said. "Theresa isn't here. She's safe at home."

In one last attempt to show him that I was there, I reached out with my mind. It felt so strange to me. After a moment, I felt confusion and fear. _Why does my mind torment me?_ Chris thought.

_It doesn't,_ I answered hesitantly. _I'm here._

I saw and felt his smile. _Thank you, Theresa._

* * *

A car honked on the road outside, and I sat bolt upright. I swept a mat of hair out of my face as the car honked again. I glanced at the clock – seven thirty. I stood up and went over to the window. The Vibe was on the road out in front of the house. As I stood at the window, Mom stuck her hand out and waved. Then she drove away.

I stretched and yawned, then grabbed my bathrobe and meandered downstairs. Since Dad was at work today, too, I got to eat the last of the Fruit Loops in peace.

After I finished eating, I went back upstairs and brushed my teeth. I rinsed my brush thoroughly, even though I knew nobody would have messed with it. It was just such a habit…

After I finished in the bathroom, I went back into my own room and tucked the feather back under the bed. While I had my hand under there, I pulled out the composition book my parents had given me the night before. Even though my _parents_ had suggested it, keeping a journal didn't seem to be a bad idea. I set it on my bed while I got dressed. Then I rummaged around my desk drawer for a pen. I wanted to go out to Chris's tree house and write for a bit. I wasn't supposed to, but I wanted to. I would be smart this time and take the cordless phone with me.

_

* * *

Friday, November 25th_

_I miss Chris. Even though he wasn't really nice to me until that letter he wrote, I still miss him. I miss just having him around. I can still remember him standing on this platform here after he had pulled me out of the mud. That's the only time I actually saw his wings, come to think of it. I wish that he hadn't needed to hide them. They were so beautiful._

_Moving on so that I don't cry, I didn't expect writing to help me at all, but it does. Maybe there is something to that story of how traumatized people should write things down. Not that I've been too traumatized, since I know Chris is safer now. At this point, I'm just sad. He should be here. Life isn't fair._

_Now I shall ponder where I can possibly hide this that my parents won't find. They clean my room sometimes, so that's not a terribly good choice. I could put it here, in my humongous bag of feathers, but then I wouldn't have it when it rained and I wanted to write indoors. I guess that leaves Chris's room. I _do_ have the key to it, and my parents are probably afraid to go in there because of something to do with remnants of "Satan" or that sort of thing. Yes, I'll hide this in Chris's room._

_I guess I'll move on to what's really been bothering me. Lately I seem to be doing something weird with my mind. I can tell what people are thinking or feeling, and if I think…_loudly_, for lack of a better term, people in a certain range seem to be able to hear me. Not to mention the fact that I pulled a salt shaker six inches without touching it. Maybe I'm a mutant – that would explain it. Maybe I'm psychic. I don't want to think about it anymore._

_I can't really think of much more to say, and I don't really see the point of writing more if I don't. I've already used almost a whole page, and there isn't much point to wasting paper on rambling._

* * *

The phone rang just as I was coming down the ladder. I hastily climbed down the rest of the way, then pulled the phone out of my back pocket and hit the On button. "Hello?"

"Hey sweetie. How are you doing?"

I almost groaned aloud, but thought better of it. "Fine." Why did she have to call me all the time?

"What have you been doing this morning, honey?" I really wished that she would drop the names, too. She had to realize that I wasn't five anymore.

"I've been writing," I answered. It wasn't a lie – I had been writing. Just…I hadn't been writing in the house.

"Oh, good, you weren't listening to loud music like you were on Wednesday. That makes me feel a whole lot better." There was a long, long pause. "I just wanted to check in on you, honey. I'll let you write."

Thank goodness. "Bye, Mom." I hit the Off button before she could say anything more. I had to get back to the house sometime today.

* * *

Around ten that night, just as I was falling asleep, I heard someone walk into my room. I immediately faked sleep. I had gotten very good over the years. I was a little confused, because I thought everyone was in bed. My parents usually didn't roam about after eight o'clock.

I heard jewelry shift, meaning that the person was looking on top of my dresser. At this point, I was glad that I hadn't fallen asleep. The person must have been looking for something – most likely my journal. Thankfully, I had put it in Chris's room as soon as I had gotten back into the house. It was currently in one of his dresser drawers.

Hesitantly, still unsure of myself, I reached out to the person with my mind.

_Where on earth did she put the silly thing?_ It was my mom. I guess if I didn't _let_ her read it, she was going to do it sneakily.

Maybe…maybe if I was psychic, I could transmit an idea, not just a thought. I concentrated on the idea of her leaving. It was rather hard to resist the urge to mentally scream, _Get out of my room!_

I guess the idea transmission worked, because before I could scream, mentally or normally, Mom turned around and left. I let out the breath I had been holding. They really wanted to see my thoughts.

I turned over and hit the play button on my CD player. I was listening to _Air Ferrets Aloft_ tonight. Stories put me to sleep just as well as music.


	9. Dear Diary I

Disclaimer: Don't own the X-Men, don't own the church, do own a little fictional group I call CAMD.

A/N: Thanks to everybody for reviewing! The only problem for me now is the fear of disappointing you guys. But I'm going to try.

**Chapter 9 – Dear Diary**

_Saturday, November 26th _

_Mom and Dad still think that I'm having trouble coping with the supposed demon. Why do they think I was traumatized by that? I was more upset by the fact that my brother left and they don't care! Well, moving on from that…_

_Tonight Mom and Dad are going to go to a church meeting about demons…I mean mutants. Apparently some other churches have joined the anti-mutant campaign. There's a website up now run by the Bangor Catholic Church that lists all the churches that are part of this new group that they're calling CAMD – Christians Against Mutant Demons. The depressing thing is that there are churches from all over New England on that list. There's some in Vermont, New Hampshire, Connecticut, and a whole bunch from New York. It's only a matter of time before they start branching out._

_I don't quite understand why the church hates mutants so much. I mean, it's just such an…unfounded fear. What did mutants ever do to be persecuted by the church? I don't understand._

_I wish I had better news about the day, but there wasn't much good about it. I still haven't heard from Chris, either psychically or through the mail, and I hope he's okay. I also hope he doesn't mind that I hide my journal in his sock drawer._

_Mom had better not come in here tonight looking for this. She just doesn't understand the meaning of "private". Ah, well, I guess that must be a parent thing._

_I had better stop writing, because I need to be able to get this back into Chris's room before my parents force me to go to bed. Darn them._

_

* * *

Sunday, November 27th_

_I noticed that there were a good number of faces missing at church today. I guess some people weren't fond of Pastor John's anti-mutant tirade, which he didn't repeat today. Thank goodness. They did, however, post a sheet on the bulletin board for people to sign to "enlist" in CAMD._

Thinking of CAMD, my parents were talking endlessly about the meeting that took place last night. They were going on about it in the car and after church. Something about how the demons needed to be removed from the church. It seemed that the few mutants that came forward weren't "cured" by their acceptance of God, and the people at the meeting decided that the demons needed to be removed in another way. Apparently killing the mutants was an attractive option.

_On a brighter note, I got a postcard from Chris today. I've taped it in here so that I won't lose it._

_-------------------------------------------------_

Friday, November 25th

Dear Theresa,

I just wanted to write and let you know that I was okay. I had the strangest dream this morning – you were in it. It was good to hear your voice, even though it was a dream. I wish I could have actually seen you.

I've heard about this group called CAMD – Christians Against Mutant Demons. It's a good thing I left, because our church was part of it. However, I've also heard about a safe place for mutants. Hopefully my next letter will come from there. It's in New York somewhere, so it'll take me a while to get there.

Be careful, Theresa.

Your loving brother,

Chris

_-------------------------------------------------_

_I can't believe that I had the same dream as him. Maybe that means that I used my psychic power to go to him and talk to him. Come to think of it, I haven't slept holding the feather since. I'll have to try it again tonight._

_I have come to the conclusion that I'm a mutant. I accidentally levitated the basketball I was bouncing around the front yard and made it stuck to my hand on the up-bounce. It was strange, and when I panicked it fell back down. Good thing, too, because Dad walked around the corner just a few seconds later. It was close._

_Ugh. School tomorrow. I hate school. And I don't know how I'm going to explain it if people hear my thoughts or I move something with my mind. This will not be good._

_

* * *

Monday, November 28th_

_School was a disaster. I accidentally broadcast the thought, _I hate you, Mrs. Nenna_, in English class. I got a week's worth of detention. I'm not going to have fun at all this week._

_Apparently there was another CAMD meeting yesterday in the middle of the night. Why it had to be the middle of the night, I have no idea. This time my parents didn't go on about it, so I still don't know what it was about. I checked the website again, but I didn't find anything._

_My teachers piled on the homework today at school. Mrs. Nenna, bless her stupid black heart, gave us a book to read and write a book report for – that's due _Friday_! It's probably not going to get done – there's a World History project on Ancient Egypt due that same day, and I didn't get much of that done over vacation, what with all that went on._

_I didn't tell anyone about Chris today. Willow thought I looked rather…down, but I put on a happy face and didn't say anything. I don't think they really have any business knowing what happened. Not the teachers, anyway. I may tell Willow tomorrow. She's got a younger sister, so maybe she can sympathize._

_Thinking of Willow, she said that her church joined CAMD, too. The thing is, she actually thinks that mutants are "demons". It's getting rather annoying, what with people thinking that. Can they not put aside their demon accusations for a few moments and actually _look_ at the people? It frustrates me to no end._

_With Willow being as nutty as everyone else, I have no one to tell about Chris's being a mutant. And, of course, since Chris left, Mom and Dad have been keeping closer tabs on me, and I haven't had a chance to see if I really am a psychic. If I am…I shudder to think of what might happen. The possibility of me running away like Chris is getting better by the day._

_That's all I really have to say tonight. Life just goes from bad to worse. I'm now hiding this notebook in Chris's underwear drawer, because that's the last place anybody would look. Right? I hope so. Goodnight._


	10. Beaten By the Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men (who have been strangely absent from this story) or the church (which has been strangely over-involved with this story).

A/N: I'm sorry if this is a bad chapter. I want to get to the actual good chapters, which are still to come. They will be better, I promise.

**Chapter 10 – Beaten By the Truth**

"Theresa, what's wrong?"

I slammed my backpack down in front of my locker. "For the thousandth time, nothing is wrong!" I snapped irritably. "Why does everybody insist that something is wrong with me?"

She put her hand on my shoulder, and I jerked away. I was getting to be just like Chris was before he left. I understood him much better now that I had my own secret to hide.

"You haven't been acting right lately," Willow told me. "Did something happen over break? Something that you haven't told me?"

"No," I said shortly, dumping books into my locker with a bit more force than was required. "Nothing happened."

My friend shrugged. "Sorry I asked, Miss Crabby."

I whirled around. "If all you're going to do is stand there, psychoanalyze me, and insult me, I'd just as soon you leave!"

"Fine." Willow stalked off down the hall, then turned the corner.

I sighed and picked up my books for English and World History. The only problem with this mode of defense was the fact that it tended to drive people away from you.

* * *

"Now, since we will be doing a book report for Friday, I have put together a very useful handout for you all that explains everything about a book report that you need to know. Theresa, dear, would you pass these out for me?" 

I took the stack of paper Mrs. Nenna was holding out to me and stood up, seething inwardly. However, I refrained from thinking about how much I despised her. I certainly didn't need another weeks' worth of detention.

Why on earth did Mrs. Nenna think that she needed to spoon-feed us everything anyway? Heaven knows we weren't intelligent enough to comprehend the concept of a book report on our own.

* * *

_Tuesday, November 30th_

_Mr. Smith, the teacher in charge of detention today, said that he won't make me do anything if I can keep myself busy for all of the ten minutes I'm supposed to spend in here. Mr. Smith rules._

_I've decided that I will conduct an experiment tonight to determine if I truly am psychic. I'm going to try and lift something rather heavy with my mind. Of course, if something happens today at school, I may not _need_ to test myself._

_Hmmm. The ten minutes are almost up, between thinking and writing. In about forty-five seconds, I will be going to the cafeteria. Not that I'm going to eat any of that disgusting garbage that they'll have left by the time I get there._

_Thank goodness for the bell. For once, that obnoxiously loud noise is beautiful. I am out of here._

* * *

I trudged out of the In-House Suspension Room, which was usually just used for detentions, with my composition book under my arm. When I got to the cafeteria, there were still ten minutes left before fifth period. 

I ducked inside and made my way over to the table where Willow was sitting. In my absence, several other girls and one guy had settled themselves around her, and they were huddled together, talking earnestly. I walked up behind Willow. "Hi!" I said loudly.

They all jumped and looked up. A few of the girls were wearing strangely guilty looks, so I suspected that I was being discussed.

"Well, we'll see you later, Willow," one of them said brightly. Then they all got up and wandered back to their normal tables.

"Hi Theresa," Willow said, trying gamely to sound actually happy to see me.

I sat down across from her. "I'll go sit somewhere else if you want them to come back, you know."

She waved that comment off. "Don't bother. They just wanted to gossip. I'm not much of a gossiper."

That wasn't true, but I didn't feel like getting into a confrontation just now. I had already lost one person close to me; I didn't need to drive another away. I glanced over at the teacher on duty: Mrs. Rand. Oh, wouldn't the health class have a grand time discussing feelings if I showed weakness.

There were a few moments of silence. I adopted an angry-seeming glare and turned it in Willow's direction. This went on for about a minute before she finally said, "Theresa, stop acting like your dumb brother."

At that point, the weight of all this was just too much. That's why I put my face in my hands and burst out in tears.

"Theresa?" Willow leaned across the table. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong…" I choked out. "Everything's…fine."

Mrs. Rand came bustling over. "Now, now, dear, whatever's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Nothing."

The teacher put her hand on my shoulder. "Come dear, just tell me what's happened."

I couldn't hold it back any longer. "Chris is gone!"

She patted me on the back. "Oh, that's terrible, poor child. Up you come, let's go to my room and talk about it."

Willow was staring at me. I stared right back. _You think it was easy to say that?_ I told her mentally, trying to reach her alone. She shook her head a little, but whether it was in response to my question or the contact, I couldn't quite say.

* * *

_Later_

_Mrs. Rand took me to the Guidance Office after fifth period, and they told me that I could either call my parents and go home early or stay with Mrs. Rand until school let out. I opted for Mrs. Rand. Despite the fact that she's rather sugary-sweet and sometimes a little demeaning, she's quite nice. She had her heart in the right place._

_After I asked her about her views on mutants, I decided to tell her why Chris ran away. I was so happy when she said, "That church comes up with a load of demons every time they want to start in on somebody. I don't believe a word of it." Now, if only my parents had said that. Whoever it was, though, I was glad to have someone on my side that wasn't another mutant._

_I stopped short of telling her about my powers. It was probably a good thing, too, because we were in a very quite class sixth period, and unless I told her mentally and risked scaring her, they would all hear. So I'm keeping that information to myself, for now at least._

_It's nearly the end of seventh period now. I stopped crying, thank goodness, just before fifth period came stomping in. I think it was because I finally had someone to tell that wouldn't say anything anti-mutant. It made me feel better, that's for sure._

_The bell just rang. I've got to get out of here. Boy, isn't this bus ride going to be fun._

* * *

"Theresa!" 

I turned around from my locker. Willow was standing a few yards away from me. "What do you want? To call Chris stupid again?"

She took a few steps closer, though it looked for all the world like she just wanted to be out of there. "No, I came to ask you exactly what happened? Sabrina told me you were with Mrs. Rand all afternoon."

I finished dumping the books I needed tonight into my backpack. "I started crying, I stopped crying, I talked to Mrs. Rand. That's what happened."

"Sabrina said that…that…that…"

"Well, go on, spit it out!"

Willow shifted from one foot to the other. "She said that your brother was a mutant, and that's why he ran away. He was a…demon."

I imagine she must have seen fire in my eyes just then. "Well, maybe she's right. Chris _was_ a mutant. However, he wasn't a demon!"

"But Pastor Rick said – "

"Do you seriously believe that Chris was a _demon_? Come on! You've met him! He's perfectly normal!"

She shook her head. "No, he was moody and quiet and tried to bite my head off."

"Did you come to talk to me about how my brother acted before he left? If so, you can go."

She took a few steps backward. "I came to ask you why you were acting the same way. I'm worried about you."

That just put the final touch on my anger. "I'm acting the same way because I _am_ the same, Willow!" My Geometry book lifted itself out of my backpack and hovered at head level. "We have the same problem. Does that answer your question?"

She just turned tail and ran down the hall as fast as she could. No doubt my parents were going to hear about this within the next day.

I sighed and plucked my book out of the air. I turned to shut my locker, but it was already closed. I must have shut it while I picked up the book. I shoved the cursed textbook back into my bag, zipped it up, and trudged off down the hall. Great. Now I was screwed. There was no other word for it.

* * *

Later that night, I emptied my backpack of school stuff. Then I grabbed some jeans, some T-shirts, my hoodie, my journal, and several pens, and stuffed them all in the bag. I was going to leave the next morning while Dad was in the shower. I didn't want to see anyone before I left. 

Then I sat down to write my letter.

* * *

_  
Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I really don't have a whole lot to say to you. You have been acting like heartless, insensitive jerks lately, and I don't want any part of that. I'm going to leave and follow Chris. I'll be a lot happier among my own kind._

_Don't look for me. I don't want to be found – at least not by you._

_Your former daughter,_

_Theresa_

* * *

I folded up that message and tucked it into an envelope. I would leave it somewhere that it would be found tomorrow morning. I was thinking about the top of the stairs. If I was going to cause some sort of uproar, I might as well make it big. 

The last thing I did before I fell asleep was poke a hole through Chris's feather, tie it to a string, and turned it into a necklace. That way I wouldn't lose it. I never wanted to lose him again.


	11. As the Day Begins

Disclaimer: I don't own a good deal of the world I write about. Nor do I own the song this title sorta came from.

A/N: I'm giving thanks today to Levanna, Caellach Tiger Eye, and gaelicdragon (my wonderful beta!) for reviewing every time I pause for breath. I love you guys. This chapter is a bit shorter, but I will hopefully make the next few longer. Happy reading! Note: I changed this about 4 hours after I put it up. Just so you know.

**Chapter 11 – As the Day Begins**

I woke up just before my alarm clock and just in time to silence it. I had set it for four fifty in the morning, and Mom usually got up at about six. A wake-up call at five o'clock would not only not be appreciated, it would blow any chance I had of getting out of the house unnoticed.

I picked up my bag quietly and tiptoed out my room. I set the letter at the top of the stairs for Mom to find when she roused herself, then crept down the steps, trying not to make them creak too much.

Dad was in the shower when I got to the bottom. I raced through the living room and the kitchen. I went into the laundry room and stopped. I stepped back out for one last look at the house I would most likely never see again. Despite the fact that I still hated my parents, I would miss this place. It was home, after all.

I turned my back on it. It wasn't home anymore. I picked up my coat, turned the knob of the back door, and slipped outside. I was free.

* * *

After several hours of freedom, I was almost beginning to regret my decision. With every step I took down the dirt road, I reminded myself that it would have been much, much worse to remain at home. I probably would have been burned at the stake or something within days had I stayed.

I car flew by me, going as fast as it could on the mud. I stuck my thumb out vainly, but it didn't work. Nobody along the side of a Maine road was going to stop for hitchhikers. They were just too cautious. And too anti-social.

I decided that if I was going to have to walk the whole way to New York, I was going to do so through the woods. Since it was raining, the canopy might block a bit of the water, and I might not get so wet.

So I adjusted my course to go through the woods instead. I was correct in thinking that the leaves and needles would protect me from the rain, but I had forgotten that I needed to follow the sun or a road to find something even resembling civilization. I was very soon lost.

I fingered the feather hanging around my neck. _Chris, may you guide me, wherever you might be._

* * *

At the middle of the day, I sat down against a semi-dry tree and decided to take a nap. I held the feather between my hands. More than sleep, I wanted to see Chris again.

* * *

"George, she's gone!"

"What?"

"Theresa, she's gone! I found this at the top of the stairs." Mom held out my letter to Dad with shaking fingers.

He took it and ripped it open. "_Dear Mom and Dad,_" he read.

"_I really don't have a whole lot to say to you. You have been acting like heartless, insensitive jerks lately, and I don't want any part of that. I'm going to leave and follow Chris. I'll be a lot happier among my own kind._

"_Don't look for me. I don't want to be found – at least not by you._

"_Your former daughter, Theresa_"

Mom broke down sobbing. "I have lost both my children to the Devil!" she wailed. Dad pulled her into a hug. "How could God let this happen?"

"Shhh…" he said, pulling her closer. "We've lost our children, but we will be reunited with them somehow, I promise. God would not be so cruel as to steal them from us forever."

She nodded, her tears still falling against his shoulder. "They're gone. They're gone."

* * *

I snapped awake. I hadn't seen Chris. I had seen my parents opening my letter. So they did have some caring thoughts for Chris and I. I thought at first that it surprised me, but it didn't. They were parents, I realized. That was their job – to love us unconditionally. The "demon" view was simply part of their way to pretend that he was going to come back.

I touched the feather again. "I will find you, Chris. I will. Wherever you are."

* * *

It was cold. It was dark. It was damp.

I tried to open my eyes – I could barely do it, and all that I could see was darkness. I could feel wounds on parts of my body I hadn't felt before. I thought about turning my head, but I couldn't. It took too much effort.

I heard a low growl from somewhere on my right. I remembered it dimly from somewhere, but it didn't seem like my memory. It seemed like…

I refused to believe it. Even when I started to lose control of my actions, and the bloody appendages came into my dimming line of sight, I didn't believe it. I couldn't. I just couldn't.


	12. Standing Alone

Disclaimer: I don't own it, I'm not making money off it. If you haven't figured that out 12 chapters in, you're pretty daft.

A/N: I know, this one is shorter than the last one. But thirteen...thirteen will be longer, I promise. And let's all just assume that her notebook is in a good waterproof bag and that it's sheltered enough by stuff that it doesn't get wet. Okay?

**Chapter 12 – Standing Alone**

_ Thursday, December 1st_

_It's raining again today. I'm holed up under some rocks, hoping that it will pass. In order to keep from going insane, I'm writing._

_I'm completely lost. I don't know which way is up anymore. Oh, if only I had followed the road! For all I know, I'm going east or something. Since the past few days have been rainy and overcast, I can't see the sun or the stars, either of which could offered something resembling a direction. However, I _am_ thankful that it is not snowing like it ought to be, because then I would freeze for sure. At this rate with this weather, I'll just starve instead. I am very thankful indeed that this winter has so far been very, very mild._

_I didn't have any scary dreams last night. I guess I was too tired to dream anything but nonsense, which I never remember. I don't need to be reminded of my current problems any more than is necessary._

_By my problem, I mean the fact that Chris is hurt. I'm going to presume that the mountain lion found him before he found that place in New York. Let's hope that I find him before it's too late. I've lost him once already – I won't let some stupid cat take him for good._

_A worm just came out of the ground in front of me. Is it safe to eat worms? I know one of my mom's friends used to do it when I was little. Maybe I'll give it a try. Wish me luck!_

_Yuck! That thing tasted FOUL! I don't care if it's the only food out here! That was awful! So much for the easy food idea._

_At least I won't get dehydrated. There are a bunch of drips that come down through this rock. One insists on falling right on top of my head no matter where I sit. No, I'm definitely not going to run out of water any time in the near future._

_I'm still scared about what happened the other day. After I got up, I ran about a mile and a half before I finally slowed down. I'm a little creeped out now because I do happen to be sheltering in a cave-like area, but I'm okay. I just have to make good time. Unfortunately, the likelihood of me getting _anywhere _before I die is very, very small. Oh well. I'll be alright._

_I think I'm going to trudge on a little farther. These woods are depressing. They all look exactly the same: pine trees, needles on the ground, and rainy. How fun. I'll stop and write later._

* * *

_Later_

_The sun finally came out! That much is good. Unfortunately, I have now realized that I was going north, not south. So, I have to turn around after I write this. I just needed to stop because I got so darn sick of hearing the ground squelching underfoot. I'm going to see if the sun can do a little bit for it. In the meantime, I'm taking a nap._

* * *

_Later_

_It's almost too dark to write. I didn't have any dreams about other people when I took my nap. That was both good and bad. Good because I didn't get any more bad dreams, and bad because I didn't get any reassuring good dreams. Well, I'll just have to deal._

_I'm even hungrier now that I was before. I haven't found anything to eat yet other than that worm, and I'm not trying that one again. I don't dare eat any plants, because I don't know how to tell poisonous ones from safe ones. So, let's hope I find something soon. Otherwise, I'm toast. Not that you could cook anything out here, anyway. The world is drowned._

_Well, I can barely see the paper that I'm writing on. Goodnight._


	13. Far Away

Disclaimer: I don't own it, not making money off it, you get the idea.

A/N: Sorry about the long delay. I had to go back to school, and that really put the lid on my writing. I've been busy-busy-busy. And this chapter is longer. Oh, and as a note, I changed this story's category from Spiritual to Drama. I don't want to drive people away, and the spirituality didn't really come into play except for the church going on about mutants being demons. As always, thanks go out to my beta gaelicdragon (who I call Jack) and all the people who review.

**Chapter 13 – Far Away**

"Chris!" I wailed, dropping to my knees. "Chris, wake up! Say something!"

Then I saw the glowing yellow eyes just beyond his prone form. My very first protective instinct was to pick up the nearest object and beat the stupid cat to a bloody pulp. However, I held myself back. Not only was I not actually _there_, per se, I wanted that vicious little beast to pay.

I'm not entirely certain exactly what I did after that. I know that I _did_ use my mind to direct as much power as I possessed at it. As to what _that_ did…I'm at a loss.

Then I heard a rumbling sound outside of the cave. I stepped outside in time to see a dark, fast, thing whiz over the treetops, barely clearing them. What on earth?

I stood there for a moment, then ducked back inside the cave. "Chris…" Tentatively, I reached out with my mind. When it touched his, I was startled to feel the weakness. _Chris, can you hear me?_

_Theresa…_

I knelt down beside him again. _Please wake up, Chris. Please wake up!_

_But…but I'm just…so…tired…_ I could feel his mind getting weaker…and weaker. And I was helpless.

_You can't sleep, Chris!_ I cried in my mind. _Try to wake up! You have to!_

There was a moment of taut silence. Then his eyes blinked slowly open. "Theresa…" he whispered.

"Hold on, Chris, I'll be right back." I ducked out of the cave and looked around wildly. My gaze fell on a curved stone that was filled with water. I picked it up, realizing that it wasn't nearly as heavy as I thought it would be, and brought it back in. "Here." I splashed some of the water clumsily on Chris's face, which was the best I could really do with a stone bowl.

That did make him look a little better and a bit more awake. He licked a few drops off his lips. "Thanks."

I nodded. "Just stay with me, Chris."

"I will."

I started examining his wings. There were a few rather nasty gashes, but most of the blood and damage had come from where feathers had been ripped out, taking skin with them.

Most of the damage on his body was in the arms and legs. He had undoubtedly tried to fight the cat off, and that would make those curs and bites well accounted for.

_Chris,_ I said warningly as he closed his eyes. _Look at me. Chris!_

He slowly opened his eyes again. _But I'm just so tired…_

I brushed a stray strand of hair off his forehead. _Stay with me, Chris. Don't sleep. Don't move. Just look at me._

_I can't actually see you,_ he thought, smiling weakly.

_Then look at that funny-looking rock above you!_ I snapped.

What funny-looking rock? 

_Well, now, what would be the point of me telling you? I want you to find it for me._ In truth, there _was_ no funny-looking rock. But as long as he was looking for it, he wasn't sleeping, going into a coma, or dying, which was fine by me.

After five minutes of silent rock-hunting, he thought, _There is no funny-looking rock up there, you liar._

_Look harder,_ I commanded. _It's there, I swear to you._ When this was over, he was going to chew me out for lying to him. Assuming, of course, that he survived.

We were coming up on fifteen minutes when I heard something outside the cave. _I'll be right back,_ I promised him, then I stood up. As I turned around, I nearly ran into two people standing in the entrance of the cave.

"Who are you?" I snarled menacingly, moving back to protect Chris.

They looked at one another. "Are you Theresa?" the one on the left asked. She was a dark woman with long white hair.

"Yes," I said warily. "How do you know my name?"

She shook her head. "That's not important right now, Theresa. I promise you that we will help your brother, but you need to go back now."

I considered this for a moment. I didn't know what to think, so I reached out to her mind. At first I couldn't feel anything, but then I felt concern. "I trust you," I said finally. "I'll go." Then I let go of the concentration I had been keeping unconsciously, and the world slipped away…

* * *

There was a bright light above me. A very bright, very annoying light. I turned my head and opened my eyes. This wasn't where I went to sleep. The room I was in looked suspiciously like a hospital room, barring, of course, the strange mint-blue color of the tile walls.

I propped myself up on one elbow and looked in the other direction. There was Chris. He was covered in bandages and was connected to several IVs. What really scared me was the oxygen mask he was wearing.

I heard the sound of a door opening and I turned to look. The woman before entered, followed by a man in an electric wheelchair.

"Hello, Theresa," the man said, directing the chair over to where I was lying. "It's good to see you awake."

I stared at him. "How is it that everybody seems to know my name?"

He smiled amiably. "You're not the only psychic here," he said, tapping his own head. "Christopher is going to be fine, due mostly to your persistence that he not 'sleep'. Without you, he would most likely be dead as of now."

That, in combination with my relief at being rescued, my worry about Chris, and my sadness at losing my parents, made me burst into tears.

The woman came hurrying over. "Have you upset her, Professor?"

He shook his head. "No, I think she merely has many emotions crowding her mind. However, some food might clear some of them up."

Food. He said food. That just made me cry harder. He was going to feed me. I would do anything for food just then.

"Theresa?" the woman asked hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I choked out, nodding.

The man turned to his companion. "Storm, would you run to the kitchen and get Theresa something to eat? I daresay they're still eating breakfast up there."

Storm nodded and strode purposefully out the door.

The man turned back to me. I was getting control of myself, and I was only sobbing intermittently now.

"My name is Professor Xavier," he said. "You're at my school for the gifted. In other words, for mutants."

Something clicked in my brain. "New York?" I guessed.

He nodded. "That's right." He knitted his fingers together. "I take it Christopher told you."

"Yes. How did you find us?"

Storm came back in just then, carrying a plate that looked full and a glass. She set them on a table next to me.

"I'll leave you to eat," Professor Xavier said, and both he and Storm left.

I looked hungrily at the plate of food Storm had brought. It was eggs, sausage patties, and toast. Breakfast. That meant that I probably hadn't been asleep for terribly long. That was good. "Food…" I murmured, picking up the fork.

* * *

"And this is the kitchen," Kitty said, pulling me sideways through yet another wall.

My head was swimming. Not only had I been traveling through walls, but over the last two hours, I had been introduced to more people – _mutants_ – than I had ever known in my entire, albeit sheltered life.

The first people I met, of course, were Professor Xavier and Storm. I learned that the Professor was telepathic, and had put together a machine called Cerebro that he used to find mutants. I didn't understand fully, but he told me that he would show me soon.

Storm – whose name was actually Ororo Monroe – could control the weather. She showed me it by summoning up a nice little rain cloud for me. It scared me a bit, because her eyes got extremely white and you couldn't really tell where she was looking.

Then I was introduced to Logan, a.k.a. Wolverine. Kitty told me he has claws that come out of his hands and that he can heal himself, but I didn't get a demonstration from him. He was a little bit…cold and distant, to be blunt, and he wasn't all that sociable.

I liked Rogue quite a bit. She was quite amiable, though she seemed just a tiny bit sad about something. I asked her about her full-arm gloves, and she explained that if she touches people, she could suck the life out of them. That's when I decided to stay on her good side.

"Oh, hi Mr. Summers!" Kitty said while I was recovering from the shock of being pulled through about twelve walls in quick succession.

The lone occupant of the kitchen turned around from the table and stared at us. He was wearing glasses with red lenses and had a slumped, miserable look about him. Ironically, the first phrase that popped into my mind was, "Seeing the world through rose-tinted lenses," but this man was the exact opposite.

"Kitty," he acknowledged. "Who's this?" He pointed at me.

"This is Theresa," Kitty replied. "She just came here today."

"Nice to meet you," Mr. Summers said roughly. Then he turned back around and left.

I turned to Kitty. "He didn't look to happy," I observed. What I had _wanted_ to do was look into his mind, but the Professor had given me a stern ethics lecture before I had left the infirmary, and I was not to go into someone's mind unless I had permission.

"Well," she said, lowering her voice as though we might be overheard, "a few months ago, his fiancée died on a mission. Poor Scott hasn't been right since – it broke his heart!"

"That's awful!" For a brief moment I was blinded by panic as I thought of Chris dying. Then I shook my head. That _would not_ happen. _Could not_ happen.

Kitty took my hand again. "Come on! I wanna show you the Rec Room!"

I sighed. This tour had better get done soon.

* * *

"Hi. What's your name?" A boy that looked sixteen or seventeen sat down across from me at the lunch table. He had brown hair that was spiked, and he couldn't have been a whole lot taller than I was.

I was a little startled that someone I didn't know would just come up to me and say hello, but then I realized that this wasn't home. No one knew what to think of me just yet. I wasn't the Anti-Cool here. "I'm Theresa."

"I'm Bobby." He picked at the food on his plate a little. Just as the silence started getting awkward, he said, "So, what is it that you do?"

For a second I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Then I realized that he wanted to know what my mutation was. "I'm a psychic." It was so strange to hear that sort of thing talked about so casually.

"Are you telepathic like the Professor, or are you telekinetic?"

"Both," I told him. I levitated my spoon for emphasis. "Why, is that unusual?"

His eyes acquired a certain sad, thoughtful look, and he didn't answer for a moment. "Yeah, it is rather…rare."

There was definitely a story behind my ability, but now did not seem like the time for it. It was most likely a fairly sad story, judging by the look on Bobby's face, and I didn't feel like hearing a sad story right at the moment.

"When did you get here?" he asked. Apparently psychic ability was an uncomfortable topic.

"Yesterday. They found my brother, too."

He nodded. "Is he the one lying in the infirmary?"

"Yeah." My voice cracked at the end of the word. Every so often I would think of him lying in a coffin instead, and the thought really scared me.

"Well, I'll see you around." He stood up, picked up his plate, and left. He was nicer than most of the guys back home, that's for sure.

* * *

"And this is your room!" Kitty said happily.

I stepped inside and looked around. It was rather bare. My backpack was sitting on the floor beside the white-sheeted bed. The walls were a neutral green color, and there was a dresser tucked into one corner of the room.

"Thanks," I said. "I like it." I really kinda wanted her to leave. She was getting on my nerves.

She took the hint. "I'll leave you to it." She bounced out the door.

I slumped down on the bed. Even though it was only three o'clock, I was completely drained. It had to be all that stupid walking I had been doing.


	14. A Light in the Darkness

Disclaimer: I don't make money off this.

A/N: This is one of the longer chapters. I would like to clear up that Chris was extremely lucky that the mountain lion didn't crush his windpipe, and I know that that's uncharacteristic behavior, but it just worked. Thanks to Jack for beta-ing. She rules. Please review. I currently live for reading my reviews because of the morale boost it gives me.

**Chapter 14 – A Light in the Darkness**

I stood next to Chris's hospital bed, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest and listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor. _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Theresa, he will not wake up any quicker for you standing here watching him," the Professor said from behind me.

"Am I allowed to talk to him?" I asked. "To try to wake him up?"

"He needs to wake up on his own time, Theresa. For his own good."

I turned around and stared at him. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

He shrugged. "Well, you could interact with your peers. Or you could explore the grounds, or the mansion itself. You could do any number of things."

"I guess I'll go outside, then." I turned and marched out of the room. He was right. I needed to get outside for a little while. Maybe the fresh air would clear my mind.

As soon as I got off the elevator on the first floor, though, I realized that I was lost. Kitty's "tour" hadn't actually included any of the hallways, or explanations of how to get from one place to another _without_ walking through walls. Maybe _she_ could do that, but I, for one, couldn't.

I decided to go left. I figured that if I went in the same direction long enough, I would find the outermost hallway, which would almost certainly contain a doorway to the outside.

Of course, it couldn't work that way. I had to pick the direction that led _inwards_. Great. So, I ended up in the Rec Room. However, there were quite a few people in there, a few of whom I knew, so I could get directions.

"Hey, Theresa!" Kitty called, hopping off the couch. "What're you up to?"

How I managed to keep from grabbing her arm and shaking her, I may never know. I guess I took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I'm just trying to get to the garden, and I've gotten lost."

She didn't pick up on my distinctly chilly tone of voice. "Oh, I'll show you. Come on!" With that, she looked around for a few seconds, then grabbed my hand and pulled me through the wall to my right.

"Once you've… been here a… while," she said between walls and sometimes people, "you learn… how to get… around." As she finished telling me this, we emerged through the last stone wall and into the garden. I glanced past her to my left and saw the door, not five feet away.

"Thanks," I said, resisting the urge to smack her for not taking me through the halls so that I could actually learn how to get around.

She grinned. "No problem," she said brightly. Then she turned around and disappeared back through the wall.

I turned back to the garden. Now that I got more than a two-second glance, it was quite large and just as beautiful. Despite the fact that it was winter, the sun was shining brightly there, and there was no snow. Storm must have been controlling the weather. I stepped onto the stone-lined path and started walking. Every so often the path branched off, but I kept following the center road. My logic was that if I went towards the middle of the garden long enough, I would find a good place to sit and think.

When I was about fifty yards away from the mansion, I stepped off the path into a medium-sized grassy field. It was empty save for a few benches and an upright stone in the center. I walked over and studied it for a few seconds. Then I smacked myself in the head and went to the other side of the stone, as the side I was looking at was bare.

It was a tombstone. Inscribed on it was a name: Jean Grey. Then it hit me – Jean Grey must have been Scott's fiancé.

I wandered over to the nearest bench and sat down. It was amazing how the temperature out here was so mild, while the rest of the world was freezing over. I started wondering what this Jean Grey might have been like. Judging by the fact that there were flowers in front of the stone, people came out here and paid their respects fairly often.

I heard a soft sound from behind me, and Mr. Summers came walking down one of the paths and into the clearing. He was carrying a daffodil, and looked just as lost and hopeless as he had the first time I had seen him.

He dropped to his knees in front of the stone and put his flower with the others. Then…silence.

I just sat there watching him. I didn't want to intrude on his private moment, but at the same time, I was afraid that I would disturb him if I moved, since he didn't seem to know that I was there.

This went on for about five minutes. At that point, I really would have loved to know what was running through his head, but I could almost hear Professor Xavier's voice running through my head: _It is unethical to read another person's mind without permission, Theresa._ But what if I just touched it briefly, to gauge his emotions? I wouldn't read it. I would feel it, but not read it. So I reached out carefully, closing my eyes. Before I even made contact, I could feel his misery. Did I really want to get any closer? I might be able to make him feel a little better.

Most people hadn't noticed when I touched their minds. Mr. Summers, however, jumped straight up and looked around wildly. "Jean?" Then he spotted me. "Oh, I didn't see you there…" He turned around and hurried off down the path he had just come from.

Jean Grey must have been a telepath. It stood to reason that he would have spent enough time around her to recognize when someone was reaching for his mind.

I stood up and stretched. Scott's sadness seemed to have spread out to encompass me; however, it may have just brought my own to the surface. I shuddered, thinking again of Chris dying. I forcibly pushed the image out of my head. I really needed to walk around and get this off my mind.

The great thing about the garden was that no matter how far I walked, I wouldn't get lost, because I could still see the mansion. Not that I was too worried about getting back. Being in this warm weather amongst beautiful flowers and trees and soft green grass was quite therapeutic, and I definitely needed the relaxation.

* * *

I ended up meandering back to the door of the mansion just before lunch. I opened it and stepped inside. It felt strange to be back indoors again, after walking around the garden for the whole morning.

Since I had absolutely no idea which way to go from here, I went right. It didn't much matter where I ended up, so long as I met someone I knew and could get directions – And as long as that person wasn't Kitty.

Luck was with me, and I had scarcely taken two steps when Rogue came around the corner ahead of me. "Rogue!" I called. "Which way is the kitchen?"

She jogged up to me and stopped. "It's down that hall," she said, pointing to where she had just come from. "You take two lefts and a right, then follow that hall to the end, and you'll find the kitchen."

"Thank you. You are my hero!"

"See ya!" she said over her shoulder as she continued down the hall.

I was really hungry. I didn't really care if I got there during the rush or not. I just wanted something to eat. I was still suffering the after-effects of going without food for two days.

There were about a dozen people milling around the kitchen when I got there. Bobby was there, as well as Storm, who was making sandwiches.

"Do you want a sandwich, Theresa?" she asked. "We have bologna, ham, and turkey."

I thought for a moment. "Ham, please."

Storm laid a few pieces of meat on a bun and handed it to me on a paper plate. "The vegetables are over there," she said, nodding at the table.

"Thank you very much." I turned around and walked over to the table and looked over the veggies. Lettuce, pickle, cucumber, green pepper, tomato, onion, and several other things that certainly had not appeared on my school's old sandwich bar. I chose lettuce, cucumber, green pepper, and tomato. I decided against the pickles, even though I was sure the ones here wouldn't give me food poisoning.

I had just settled down in a corner with my sandwich and a glass of Kool-Aid when people started flooding in. And I mean _flooding_ in, about twenty of them trying to get through the door at once. Now, _that_ I recognized from school.

When I looked over, Storm had abandoned the sandwich-making. It was every man for himself, or, actually, everyone for themselves, because the former always struck me as sexist.

I suppose that I got lucky. Nobody came over into my little corner to talk to me. It's not that I'm particularly anti-social, but too many people scare me just a bit, and if one person came, you could just tell that at least ten more would come. But, I got the corner to myself, so I was happy.

* * *

_Saturday, December 3rd_

_I'm really beginning to like it here. Even through the nagging worry of Chris still lying downstairs in the hospital room, I'm starting to enjoy myself. I got to play air hockey against Rogue, and I kicked her butt! Yeah!_

_It's really amazing to me that people really like me here. I'm so used to being weird and shunned, and I keep expecting people to edge away from me like my un-cool-ness might be contagious, but nobody here does. It's nice to feel so normal – to actually have friends numbering in double digits. It's a very new experience for me._

_I got Bobby to show me around a bit after lunch, so now I know how to get to places like the front door and the kitchen and the Rec Room without going through the walls. Now I don't have to ask everybody for directions anymore! Hooray!_

_Well, I don't really have much more to say, so I'll end this before I start rambling._

* * *

Just as I finished writing, I heard a sharp, urgent-sounding knock on the door. "Theresa?"

I jumped up and flung the door open. Storm was standing there. "Theresa, we need you down in the infirmary."


	15. Living Reminder

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, don't claim to, yada yada yada.

A/N: I'm so, so sorry that this took so long. I just had the most severe case of writer's block. However, it's here now. Sorry if it isn't quite as good as some other chapters, but it was rather hard to write. Thanks to joint betas Jack and Danny (gaelicdragon and My Pen Name Is...) for beta-ing this for me. And thanks to Caellach Tiger Eye for giving me the idea for the chapter. Any ideas from you readers for later chapters are greatly appreciated.

**Chapter 15 – Living Reminder**

"Are you gonna wake up some time today?"

I started, my eyes flying open. "Oh! Oh… What did you say?"

Chris rolled his eyes at me. "I _said_, 'Are you going to wake up some time today?'"

"What time is it, anyway?" I asked, standing up and stretching.

"Hold on, let me check my watch." He held up his arm and made a point of looking at his bare wrist. "Oh, it seems to have stopped working. However, I'd guess that it's about six thirty, as Storm just went out to start on breakfast."

I sat back down again. "Six thirty isn't that late, you idiot."

"You were twitching in your sleep," Chris observed, changing the subject. "Care to share?"

"Just gimmie a sec – I can't remember exactly what it was I was dreaming about." For a few moments I just sat there thinking. My dream was already fading, as most of my dreams did. "There was a huge, high-lighter orange Easter Bunny, I know that. I think it was chasing me."

Chris snorted. "And I think the fact that I dream about teachers is random and disturbing. What was so scary about an oversized rabbit?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Anything's scary when it's got a chainsaw."

"Right. Being chased by _anything_ wielding a chainsaw is cause for concern. I know I would – " He stopped.

"Would what?"

"Shhhh!" he admonished. "Listen!"

I listened. Then I could make out the sound of jet engines. "It's the jet. They must be coming back from somewhere." The engines cut off. "I didn't even know they were gone. They must have left during the night."

"I don't even know who _they_ are. Would you care to enlighten me?"

"_They_ are the X-Men. You know, the people that found us. They go out and find mutants in trouble and bring them back here. I'm not – " I stopped short as the door hissed open. Wolverine came in almost at a run, a limp, slightly blackened form in his arms. Scott came in right behind him, followed closely by a man I didn't know. I briefly noted the fact that he was blue, but I was too busy taking in the rest of the situation that I didn't pay much attention to that particular detail.

"Get Storm!" Scott commanded, then he ran out of the room. His depression seemed gone in the urgency. The blue man stood there for a moment, then vanished with a loud bang, a veil of black mist marking the place where he had stood.

"That's different," Chris whispered.

Seconds later, there was another bang, and the man reappeared, clutching Storm to his chest in a tight hug.

"What happened, Logan?" the white-haired woman asked, rushing to the person on the table.

The Wolverine fidgeted. "Some sort of anti-mutant thing in South Carolina. Bunch of locals torched his house. He got caught inside."

Storm dashed over to one of the glass cabinets and pulled out an IV bag. Then she flung another door open and pulled out a jar and some bandages. "Logan, can you hook up the heart monitor for me?"

"Umm…" He stepped aside to let her by. "No."

At that point, everyone was standing between me and the table. "Kurt, help me with this," Storm said urgently, but I couldn't see what it was she was doing.

A few minutes later, Professor Xavier came through the door, Scott just a few steps behind. "How much damage is there, Ororo?"

"A lot," Storm replied, not turning. She had managed to hook up the heart monitor, and the machine was beeping erratically, the thin green line darting across the screen, a peak marking each beat. "We've got to get him stabilized."

As she said this, the beeps changed to a continuous, high-pitched wail. The monitor flat-lined. Everyone stopped moving, staring at the machine. Storm shook her head.

They had lost him.

I flashed back to the day before, listening to Chris's heart monitor, the steady beep. I had been dreading that sound, and I was so afraid that I would hear it. _But he made it,_ I told myself firmly. _Don't think about it._ But I did.

The noise stopped as Storm unplugged the machine. Then I could hear that voice that had been hidden behind it. The blue man – Kurt – was praying.

" – will fear no evil, for thou art with me."

I closed my eyes, remembering my parents. They would say something like that. Thinking about them was still painful. Like it or not, I missed them. They were my family.

Looking over, I saw that Chris had turned his head away. Reaching out ever so slightly with my mind, I could tell that he was shaken. He realized that that could have happened to him. He was remembering, too.

Neither of us said anything for a long time after that.

* * *

"Theresa, I want to talk to you about your education. This is – first and foremost – a school. What grade are you in?"

"I'm a Freshman." Professor Xavier's chairs were extremely soft and puffy.

"I will assume that you are taking Earth Science, Algebra I, World History, and English I, along with a foreign language. Is that correct?"

I shook my head. "Geometry, not Algebra I. And I had health. My foreign language was Spanish."

The Professor nodded. "I will draw up your schedule – you should have it for tomorrow."

"Thank you." I stood up, though it was rather challenging, as I had sunk down in the chair. "So I start tomorrow?"

"Yes. I advise you to enjoy the rest of your day – Mr. Summers assigns a good deal of homework."

"Thanks for the warning."

* * *

_Sunday, December 4th_

_I can't believe that I'm starting school again tomorrow. It'll make this seem so…normal. Chris is going to make fun of me, I know. He doesn't have to start until next week at the earliest._

_I just thought of my dream again – the one about the rabbit with the chainsaw. Usually my dreams are about things like school or TV or something along those lines. That was an odd dream, because I haven't seen an Easter Bunny since…well, a long time ago. It's just rather…strange._

_It feels weird not to be going to church. Even though I hated it, it was part of my weekly routine, and my Sunday feels empty without it. There's a few people that go to church from here, and they offered to let me go with them, but I didn't want to. I don't want to go to church if I don't have to._

_I'm having a little trouble with a Christian mutant, what with all the CAMD nonsense. I know that some churches aren't part of that, but still, the idea that anti-mutant feelings can be born out of Christianity would drive me away if I wasn't already an atheist._

_Thinking of that, the one thing I really want to know is why people hate mutants so much. I mean, I know why, but I don't know _why_. It's just so hard to understand._

_I'm finding that the further into emotions I look, the more tangled they get. There really aren't concrete emotions like _joy_ or _sadness_. There's too much involved in emotion to classify feelings like that. It's just…well, a feeling. When I first started being to feel other people's emotions, it was simple. Now it's not. Now it's tangled and complicated. It's confusing._

_I'm glad I've got this journal. It gives me a place to try and untangle my thoughts. That is also known as rambling._

_I think I'll stop now._

* * *

"Theresa, have you met Kurt?" Storm asked at lunch. She was accompanied by the man in question.

I finished chewing the last of my food. "Not officially. I saw him this morning, but we haven't been introduced."

"Well, Theresa, this is Kurt Wagner. Kurt, this is Theresa Scott."

Kurt stuck out his hand. As I shook it, I noted that he only had three fingers. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." He had a German accent. At least, I think that was what his accent was. "Your brother is in the hospital, no?"

I nodded. "Did you meet him yet?"

"Yes. He was a very good conversationalist. He made the weather interesting."

I snorted. "He hasn't been outside for days, so I imagine he wanted to know whether it was snowing or not."

"He did. I told him it wasn't yet. Then he started talking about global warming, and how it was making the winters shorter. He told me more than I ever wanted to know."

"Sounds like him." I picked up my glass and plate. "Nice meeting you."

"You too."

* * *

_Later_

_I went down to the Rec Room this afternoon and played a few games of air hockey. I beat Kitty, and then I asked for a tour through the hallways. She blushed something awful and said something about she forgets that other people don't have as good a sense of direction as she does. So now I know my way around completely._

_The day was pretty boring other than that. I read quite a bit. The school has a great library. I'm almost all the way through _The Windsinger_. It's a very good book._

_I think I'll stop writing so that I can finish the last few pages. Good night._


	16. Second Chance

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, blah blah blah. I'm assuming that we got this point some time ago.

A/N: Sorry it took so long, and sorry it's so short and...well, bad. I'm suffering from some writer's block again. This isn't beta-ed, so if anybody reads this and would like to come forward...hopeful look. Don't forget to review, and pretty please send me some ideas! I'm running out fast!

**Chapter 16 – Second Chance**

I stood at the door to room three, part of the crowd, several notebooks tucked under my arm and a few pens and pencils in my pocket. My first class of the day was Geometry with Mr. Summers. I was looking forward to hearing him say more than two words at a time. However, I hoped and prayed that he wasn't like my old math teacher. She would ramble on and on, completely off-topic. All you had to say was, "How are your kids?" and she would talk about them for the rest of class. We only did that about once a month, though, because it got old awfully fast.

In the midst of my thoughts, the door swung open. Everyone filed in, a few running into the doorframe because they were exhausted.

After everyone sat down, I scurried to the nearest empty seat. I had never switched schools before, and I wasn't really sure what to expect. I knew I would need to get a bunch of new books, and that I would be somewhat lost for the first few days, but that was about it.

Mr. Summers shut the door and marched to the front of the class. As he passed my desk, which was along the center aisle, he dropped a book on it.

"We have a new student today." He pointed at me. "This is Theresa Scott."

There were numerous hellos, and many smiles in my direction. I smiled back.

"We're going to start on sine, co-sine, tangent, and their uses today. Open your books to page two hundred thirty nine."

* * *

An hour later, I was out the door of room three as fast as I could go, contemplating how long it would take me to do fifty math problems. Professor Xavier was right – Mr. Summers really knew how to load his students down with homework.

My next class was Earth Science with Storm. My hopes were higher for this class. Miss Munroe seemed like she would be a more…charismatic teacher than Mr. Summers.

When I got into the classroom, I almost immediately saw the book sitting on one end of the center lab table. As it was the only place with a book, I assumed that it was my seat. After all, who else would need a book?

As I was the second or third person in the room, I got to watch the people filter into their seats around me. The boy that sat beside me seemed nice enough. At least, he was far nicer than the guys at my old school would have been.

Storm was standing at the front of the room behind a slightly taller lab table. A white board was on the wall behind her, its surface covered with chemical compounds: CO2, CH3BR, that sort of thing. Her first period class must have been chemistry.

"We have a new student today, class. This is Theresa Scott."

I got the feeling that by the end of the day, people would be very sick of "meeting" me.

* * *

After science, I had English with Professor Xavier. He, too, introduced me. Heck with other people getting sick of it – I was already starting to get sick of it.

For fourth period, I had a study hall. That meant that I had an hour of time to go anywhere I wanted and do just about anything I wanted. I went to the library and started in on my Geometry homework. It wasn't all that bad, it was just very repetitive. By problem thirty, I had to either stop or start ripping my hair out.

Then there was lunch. We had pizza. I hadn't really expected it, but Logan was a decent cook. He knew how to make very good stuffed crust pizza, which I found delightful. Nobody in my family could do that very well.

Fifth period: World History. Kurt and Logan were jointly teaching this until Kurt got enough teaching under his belt to teach alone. They didn't introduce me. I guess they figured everyone knew me by now, and if they didn't, their friends did and would tell them.

This World History class was much better than the one with Mr. White. Having two teachers added another element entirely to the class, as at one point they didn't agree. It was something to do with the pronunciation of "Mongol". It was mostly because of Kurt's accent. They never really did resolve it.

Health was my sixth period class. Storm was the teacher, so it was more…productive than Mrs. Rand's class. Even so, it was still Health class, which cannot actually be interesting.

Finally, seventh period. The last period of the day – almost free. I sincerely hoped that this Spanish class would be more interesting than the one back home. No offense to Mr. Franke, but that class had just…been…so……slow.

Thankfully, this class was better. Rogue didn't force stupid memory devices on us. I was surprised that Rogue was allowed to teach a class, but she _was_ 18, and she had already taken this class, so I suppose she was qualified enough to teach here.

"Ustedes no tienen tarea," she said, putting down her marker and snapping the overhead off. "We'll be doing a translation of pages ninety seven and ninety eight tomorrow."

Within seconds, the bell rang and we all snatched up our books and bolted out the door as fast as humanly – and sometimes mutantly – possible. We were free!

After I got out into the hall, I made a beeline for the elevator. I wanted to go see Chris.

"You really need a life," Chris told me as I walked through the infirmary doors.

I rolled my eyes and sat down in the chair beside his bed. "Hello to you too." I dumped my books on the floor next to my chair. "How was your day?"

He snorted. "Boring, as usual. I cannot wait until I can get out of this stupid room. And after I get out of it, I never want to see it again." He played with a few feathers on his left wing, smoothing it. "How was _your_ day?"

"The first day of school's the only interesting one." I picked up my math book and flipped it open to page 240. Only twenty more problems left. "Mr. Summers is boring, Kurt and Logan are…interesting, and Rogue's a surprisingly good teacher. According to Storm, we're starting a science project tomorrow."

"Sounds like fun. Meet anybody new?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm not exactly a social butterfly." I dug through the pile of books and pulled my math notebook out of the middle. This made the top of the pile slide off onto the floor, so I had to rearrange that. Then I took the pencil out of my pocket and started in on problem number thirty-one. It was a proof. Oh, joy. Just shoot me now.

Chris looked at the book. "You have fun with that."

"Thanks. I will." Not.


	17. The Great Escape

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Well, I own Theresa and Chris, and their parents (I realized the other day that I accidentally gave her mom two names - her name is really Norma.), however annoying they sometimes get.

A/N: I feel so unappreciated! Nobody's reviewed Chapter 16 yet! I'm gonna just break down and cry. No, I'm just kidding. But REVIEW, people! I'll give you a cookie!**  
**

**Chapter 17 – The Great Escape**

"Alright, class, today we're starting our project." Storm stood up at the front of the science class, holding a dry erase marker in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other. "The name of it is UV Menace. You'll be working in pairs, and I decided to let you choose your partners. You have two minutes."

Immediately, the entire class jumped up and turned into a large and disorganized mob. Every ten to twenty seconds, two people would come out and settle somewhere in the room. I didn't join the mob – I stayed where I was. I didn't know anybody – what was the point of diving into the crowd to look for someone? I would just wait it out and pair up with the other person that didn't have a partner.

Finally, two minutes were up. The crowd had almost completely dissipated, and the people that weren't in their seats were on their way, partner in tow. I noticed that the boy sitting beside me was partner-less. I tapped him in the arm. "Do you need a partner?"

"Yeah. Will you be my partner?"

I nodded. "Sure." We both turned back to the front of the class as Storm started talking again.

"I've got a handout for you to start this project off," she said, picking up a thick stack of papers. I found myself thinking, _Oh no. Tell me that's not just one handout._ As soon as I thought it, I regretted it, because a few students sitting around me looked at me funny. Whoops. Forgot about the fact that I could transmit my thoughts. And of course, of all the thoughts I had, it had to be a stupid one that came out.

Thankfully, Storm didn't notice. "When this project is done, I'm going to want you to have a presentation of some kind, along with a written report. The presentation can be a skit, a song, or just about anything you can think of. I believe that there might be a few camcorders around that you could use." She picked a video off of her desk and went over to the television. "I'm going to show you what a group last year did." She slid the tape in, and we all stared up at the screen like zombies as the video started.

Half an hour later, the entire science class flooded out of room five, every single person laughing. Basil – my partner for the science project – and I decided that the one guy in the video was, to say the least, _iffy_. It's one thing to wear a paper tree on your head to demonstrate how global warming can cause forest fires – it's quite another to skip down the road in the rain wearing a pink poncho and then fall down screaming to demonstrate the effects of acid rain. However, it was rather amusing, so I wasn't complaining.

"I'll meet you in the Rec Room after school," Basil said before we split up.

"Sure." Then we went our separate ways, me to English and he to Algebra.

* * *

I trudged out of English forty-five minutes later, staring at the ground. Why were teachers so mean? Why did they have to give projects all at the same time? I decided that they must have coordinated.

Professor Xavier had started the class by cheerily handing out papers outlining our project. It was called the Culture Project. All we had to do for tomorrow was choose a country to study. But, as Professor Xavier had told us, that was about where the easy part ended. We had to do a book report on a book from our country, plan a pretend trip, keep a journal of our pretend trip, make a budget to follow on our pretend trip, and at the end, we had to cook something from our country for lunch.

All that made my head hurt. I decided to leave my twenty geometry problems for later and take a nap during study hall. Maybe I would wake up and it would all be a dream.

I was sitting in a chair in the library, almost asleep, when I heard someone sit down beside me. I didn't really care, and I would have continued not caring if they hadn't poked me.

"Go 'way," I muttered, swatting at the hand and missing completely – which was about how good I expected my aim to be. "Study hall's not done yet."

The person snorted. I knew that person. My eyes shot open and I stared at him. "Chris!" I almost hugged him, but I figured he wouldn't appreciate that, so I settled for patting him on the shoulder. "I didn't know you were going to be getting out today."

He grinned. "Storm didn't either – and she still doesn't."

"You snuck out of the infirmary?" Somehow I couldn't picture my normally rule-abiding brother sneaking around, especially when he was sneaking out of a _hospital room_.

Chris nodded. "I was going stir-crazy. I would have gone insane if I stayed there for one more second. My legs are fine; my heart isn't gonna give out. My wings are sore, but that's because I'm growing feathers back. It's not bad." He ruffled his feathers, as if to demonstrate that it didn't hurt a bit. "I'm really stiff, though."

I rolled my eyes. "No duh." I yawned and laid my head back on the chair. "When are you gonna start classes?"

"Tomorrow, since he seems to feel so good."

We both jumped and looked towards the doorway. Chris shrank visibly into the chair. "Hi Storm," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "What's goin' on?"

Storm crossed her arms. "I'm trying to hunt down my escaped patient. If you see him, tell him that he needs to get down to the infirmary ASAP, because otherwise he's going to wish that the cat had gotten him."

Chris sighed and pushed himself up. "See ya, Theresa." With that, Storm took his arm firmly and led him out of the room like a cop leading a robber. It was rather amusing, at least to me.

I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep again, but then I realized that there were only ten minutes left of study hall, and unless I wanted to miss lunch, no sleep I got was going to do me a lick of good. Instead, I decided to think of a country for the Culture Project. Europe was definitely going to be the most common area, and I didn't want to be involved in the fistfight over who got Norway or England.

One of my first thoughts was Australia, but honestly, there wasn't any history from Australia. So that was out. It was right about then that Egypt popped into my mind. I had always looked reading about Egypt, why not choose it for a huge project? I couldn't think of any reasons not to choose it, and so Egypt became my first choice. Then I pulled Russia out of the mental hat for my second choice. It was interesting enough. Plenty of political turmoil in its past to write about.

Just as the bell rang, I pushed myself out of my chair, grabbed my books, and went to lunch.

* * *

"So…how are we gonna do this?"

Basil and I were in my room, our books dumped on the floor by the door. We were trying to decide what to do for our science project presentation.

I shrugged. "I was thinkin' a video. I imagine that we could find something at least mildly amusing to do."

He grinned briefly. "I can't believe that they stuffed that poor cat into a bikini. Who in their right minds would do that?"

"I dunno. I wouldn't, that's for sure." I twisted a strand of hair around my finger idly. "Did you have any preference as to what we do?"

He shook his head. "Nope." He stood up. "Is there anything else that we needed to do today?"

I thought for a moment. "Don't think so."

"Cool." Basil picked up his books, opened the door, and left.

For a moment I just sat there, staring at the wall. Then I sighed and stood up. I wanted to go check on Chris.

"May I suggest that you take up knitting?" my brother said by way of a greeting.

I stopped in the doorway and glared at him playfully. "Would you rather I leave?"

That shut him up.

"So, how was your day?"

I walked over to him and sat down on the end of his bed. "If you hadn't came and talked to me this morning, it would have been downright depressing."

He smirked. "That bad, huh?"

"Teachers are evil. They are conspiring to kill me, I swear."

Chris smiled knowingly. "How many projects did they decide to assign?"

I just groaned and looked up at the ceiling. After a long moment of silence, I held up two fingers in front of my chest.

He just grinned like an idiot. "Have fun."


	18. Moving Day

Disclaimer: You know the deal, I'm not making money off it. Also, Basil Martin belongs to Jack, and she was nice enough to let me borrow him, because everybody loves Basil!

A/N: The alert system's been down, so I'm hoping for more reviews this chapter. It's my longest chapter yet! Yay! I also think it's one of the funniest. Actually, I didn't know when I wrote it, but the scene about the pizza actually happened. The irony was just so much, because the people I based the characters on...ah well. Can't stop fate. Also, don't hate Basil because he's nasty, he's just a bit...distracted... Just so you know, I was reading another fic while I was writing this, and it was late at night, so that style kinda rubbed off on me. And I say once more: REVIEW!

**Chapter 18 – Moving Day**

I woke up at six o'clock to someone knocking on my door. "Theresa," I heard someone call. It sounded like Storm.

Grumbling and groaning, I rolled out of bed and staggered over to the door. I had to lean against the wall for a moment so that I could get my balance. I didn't want to look drunk, which is how I normally look in the morning. I opened the door. "Yeah?"

Storm looked so collected compared to me. She was wearing her uniform. "I just wanted to know if you would keep an eye on Chris for me today. We're leaving on a mission, so there's no school. I told Chris that he's allowed to get up today, so he shouldn't be any trouble. Just watch him, will you?"

I nodded. "Sure." I started tipping to my left, but I stopped it by grabbing the door. "Good luck on your mission."

"Thank you." Storm turned and walked briskly off down the hall. "Oh!" she called, turning around. "His room is the one next to yours. Can you help him get settled?"

"Sure." I shut the door, then leaned against it. How could she possibly be so alert at this time of day? It just wasn't fair. Why couldn't _I_ be a morning person?

Glancing at the clock and sighing again, I pulled a pair of jeans and a T-shirt out of my dresser. I wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, so I might as well get dressed and get down to the infirmary. As I pulled my shirt over my head, I started debating what I wanted to do with Chris today. I'd have to show him around, of course, but what else? Maybe we could walk around the garden. Maybe we could play air hockey. Maybe we could watch television. Maybe I could let him decide, as I obviously couldn't.

* * *

"Up!" I sang, coming in the door to the infirmary. "It's time – " As I glanced around, I stopped abruptly. The infirmary was empty. No Chris. I looked a little harder, but it wasn't as if there were any good places to hide in there. Chris just wasn't here.

So, I settled down to wait for a few minutes. Maybe he needed to go the bathroom, in which case, I wouldn't have to hunt for him.

Ten minutes passed. No Chris. I ruled out the possibility of a trip to the restroom. Maybe he left? That was probably what he had done. It would be just like him to do that, never mind that I was going to show up to escort him.

Just as I was standing up to go on a hunt, I got an idea. What if I just reached out for his mind? That would be so much easier. I had already figured out that we had a strong connection – finding him wouldn't be that hard. So I reached out my mind, letting it go in the direction it was drawn. In a moment, I felt the familiar touch of Chris's mind.

_Oh Chris,_ I sing-songed into his mind, _where are you?_

Without seeing him, I could tell that he jumped. A wave of shock went through his mind, nearly dislodging me. _Theresa?_

I snorted mentally. _Who else could it be? Where the heck are you?_

_Um…I'm up in the kitchen. Why?_

I'm sure that my annoyance showed in his mind. _Because I'm down here in the infirmary looking for you, you moron! You're going to be in trouble when I get up there._

_Yeah, Theresa. I'll be in big trouble, I'm sure._

I didn't bother to reply. There was no point. Instead I jogged out of the infirmary and into the elevator. I tapped my foot, wishing that the thing would rise faster. When the door finally opened, I almost sprinted out. Once I did, I slowed down a bit. I didn't exactly need to hurry.

When I walked into the kitchen, Chris was sitting at the table, a bowl of Fruit Loops in front of him. "Hey Theresa." He put another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "How's it goin'?"

I glared at him. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to talk with your mouth full?" I asked pointedly.

He took another bite of cereal. "Yeah," he said. "I just chose not to listen." He grinned. "Just let me enjoy my first decent meal since I came here, okay? Storm's been feeding me tofu."

I snorted. "Poor you." I went over to the cereal cabinet and pulled out the box of Fruit Loops. Then I pulled a bowl out of another cabinet. "I've had a whole bunch of sugar." I poured some cereal into the bowl, then reached into the fridge for the milk. "Look at it this way – you'll appreciate it more now." I smothered the Fruit Loops in milk, then put the carton back in the fridge and sat down beside him.

"And you think I wouldn't appreciate it enough after having to put up with Mom's choice in cereal?"

After that remark about our family, we both went silent. Without trying too hard, I could tell that Chris missed it almost as much as I did. Despite the fact that they had some pretty radical beliefs and were extreme in everything they did, we both loved our parents. We couldn't help it. After all, they did raise us, which was probably a bit of a chore.

After a minute or two, I heard footsteps out in the hall. I looked at the door just in time to see my science partner walk in. For a moment I struggled with his name, but then I remembered. "Hi Basil."

"Hi," he said, not bothering to turn around to look at me. He opened the fridge and rooted around. He finally emerged, holding a paper plate with two pieces of pizza on it. He stuck it in the microwave and set it to forty-five seconds.

Chris studied him for a moment. "Who eats pizza for breakfast?" he asked.

Basil glared at him viciously. It surprised me a little bit, because I hadn't thought he'd be like that. "Me," he said flatly. The microwave beeped, and he bashed the latch so hard I thought it might break. Then he snatched his pizza, slammed the door shut, and stalked out of the room.

I looked at Chris, and Chris looked at me. "Nice guy," he said finally. "And you know him how?"

"He's my partner for the science project," I explained. "He didn't seem quite that…vicious in class yesterday." I shrugged. "Maybe he's not a morning person." I thought for a moment. "Maybe he doesn't like you. You aren't that good at getting on peoples' good sides."

Chris didn't bother responding to that. He scooped the last of the Fruit Loops up, then went over to the sink and added his bowl to the others that were occupying that portion of the counter. "Storm said you were going to show me around today."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was plannin' on." Silence reigned while I took a few more bites of cereal. "I'll show you your room first." I ate the last of my cereal, then put the bowl beside Chris's on the counter. "Let's go."

He followed me out of the kitchen and up the stairs, going a little slower than I was. When I got to the top of the stairs I leaned against the end pole of the banister and waited for him. "You're slow."

He glared up at me. "Shut up." He continued doggedly on his way. "It's not my fault that I'm so damn stiff." He finally reached the top step, and I set off down the hall, going a little slower. I passed my door, then stopped in front of Chris's.

"This is it." I opened the door and motioned for him to go first. He did, and I followed him inside, shutting the door behind us. Then we both looked around.

It was drab. There was no other word. Then again, my room was drab too. It just wasn't as clean. The blanket was tan, the sheets were white, and the place was just too neat for it to be natural. It was rather unnerving.

"I think I may want to do some rearranging," Chris noted. He flopped down on the bed, wincing as he hit his sore wing. "Wanna help?"

I shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

After that, we spent fifteen minutes moving furniture about. Chris was more…organized than I was. And he was a creature of habit. I don't think he ever changed the layout of his room in his life. And wouldn't you know, he put the furniture in as close a formation to his old room as he could. When we were done, it looked eerily like his old room.

Chris stood in the middle of the room and nodded. "Just right." He came over and stood by the door with me. "Where to next?"

"Do you want me to show you the garden?" I asked, opening the door and going out into the hall.

"Sure." Chris stopped in the middle of the hallway. "I need to stretch." He went through a series of the sort of stretches that you'd see people doing in gym class. Then he reached his wings out as far as they would go, first to the side, then upwards. They were so big, they almost touched the high ceiling. Then he ruffled them and folded them back up. "Okay. I'm ready for anything."

* * *

"This is really pretty," Chris observed, reaching up and touching one of the flowers that peeked through the hedge that rose around us. "It's nice."

I sat down in the grass, which was very green, despite the fact that it was winter. "Yeah, it is nice."

After a moment, Chris sat down beside me. "I've always wanted to be in a garden maze."

I stretched my legs out and tapped the thin brick path through the grass with my toes. "You know what would be really cool? To see this thing from the air."

Chris pondered that for a moment. "That would be cool," he agreed. Then he stood up and spread his wings. "I think I'll go see." He ran down the path for a few yards, then flapped hard and took off.

I shaded my eyes against the sun as I watched him climb higher and higher. I wished I could be up there with him. I considered reaching into his mind, but I decided that I didn't want to annoy him. Instead, I just watched him soar around up in that nice blue sky.

Then I got an idea. If my mind could lift other things, why couldn't I use it to lift myself? Admittedly, there was a fair chance it wouldn't work, but it was still worth a shot. I gripped my own body with my mind, then lifted.

For a few seconds, I flew. It was spectacular. Then I came crashing back to the ground as I lost my concentration.

Taking a deep breath, I tried again. This time I didn't fall. I just lifted myself up a few feet and leveled out. It was rather strange, and it was difficult to keep myself focused enough to do it, because it required quite a bit more energy than what I was used to. As I stood there, though, my mind got used to it, and I was able to relax a little bit.

I decided to push myself up a little farther. Of course, I wasn't going to go as high as Chris, but I could still see the garden from above.

The garden was very pretty. From above, I could see that the hedges seemed to form some sort of pattern. I went higher to see what it was. The garden was bigger than I thought it was, so I kept going up.

When I could finally see it clearly, I realized that I was almost up to Chris's level. I sighed, then looked down at the garden. It was in the shape of a flower.

I came all the way up here for that?

"Theresa?"

I turned and looked at Chris. He had just flown by me. "Yeah?"

He stared at me as best he could while circling me widely. "Um…how did you get up here?"

I tapped my head. "The power of my mind."

"Okay then." He turned and swooped towards the ground. "I'll beat ya down!"

I grinned. "Oh no you won't!" I hollered back. Then I realized that I wasn't entirely sure _how_ to get down. I hadn't really lowered anything psychically yet, and I didn't really want to experiment with it when I was this far off the ground. "Chris!"

He must not have heard me, because he didn't stop.

"_Chris_!"

He still didn't hear me. The wind must have been whistling in his ears.

Just then I heard a voice in my mind. _Theresa, may I ask what you are doing?_

It didn't scare me enough for me to lose my grip on myself, but it was surprising. _Professor?_

_However did you manage to get quite so high, Theresa?_

_Umm…_ There wasn't much of an explanation. _I, uh, wanted to look at the garden from above, then I got up above it, and I wanted to see what the pattern was, and…well…now I don't know how to get down._

I swore I could hear Professor Xavier laughing. _If he were in any condition to help you, I would send your brother, but as he more than likely shouldn't have flown in the first place…_

Oh God. _You mean I'm stuck?_

I heard some more mental laughter from Professor Xavier. _You can either wait for the team to return, as Storm should be able to get you down, or you can attempt to lower yourself somehow. Those are the only options I can see. I'm sorry._

Great. _Thanks for your help._ I stared down at the garden again. It was so far away… I took a deep breath. I didn't want to be stuck up there all day. _I'm going to try to get down._

There was silence. I guess the Professor didn't feel the need to say anything.

I stared at the ground. It was very far away, and didn't look too terribly soft. I looked up at the sky – actually, looked higher in the sky, as I was already _in_ the sky – and sighed. It was now or never. Lowering ought to be the opposite of lifting, right? So, I tried lowering myself.

It didn't work. I shot down towards the ground so fast, the world turned into a blur. For a moment, I thought I heard angels singing to me – not that I believed in them, but that was the only way to describe the feeling that I was going to hit the ground and die. However, I caught myself. I still wasn't all that close to the ground, though, and I wasn't interested in trying to "lower" myself again. I didn't want to end up as a pile of skin, organs, and broken bones.

_Actually, I think I'll just wait for Storm._

* * *

By three o'clock the next morning, I was definitely regretting my decision to wait. No, actually, I was regretting my decision to ever go "flying" in the first place. Why couldn't I have stopped the first time I landed on my butt?

"Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on. La, la, how the life goes on…" I had started singing the most random songs I knew at about midnight. I listened to a good deal of old music, as most of the music I listened to was old rock and roll, which consisted mostly of Beatles songs. My parents were pretty adamant that I not listen to popular music, as it "had the wrong morals".

So far, I had managed to sing "Rocky Raccoon", "Martha My Dear", "Yesterday", "For No One" (that was a fairly depressing song, and didn't much help my seemingly hopeless situation), "Birthday", "Bungalow Bill", "Everybody's Got Somethin' to Hide 'Cept for Me and My Monkey", and last but not least, "I am the Walrus". I was trying to sing as many White Album songs as I could think of. I was working on "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" when I felt the wind pick up. That could only mean one thing – my salvation was coming! When I got down from here, I was going to have to start worshiping Storm.

"Theresa?" Storm called. "Are you there?"

"Yes!" I shouted. "Can you please get me down from here?"

I heard her laughing. "Yes. Just relax, and don't hold yourself up."

I felt the wind spinning around me, going faster and faster. I felt like I was being sucked up by a tornado. However, I relaxed my grip, and moments later, I was flying. Fairly fast.

After that, I couldn't really think much, because the ground was rushing up at me far faster than I would have liked.


	19. Dear Mom and Dad

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, I don't own the Culture Project or UV Menace, and I don't own Basil. Theresa and Chris, though, are mine.

A/N: This is another un-beta-ed chapter, because my beta hasn't been online for the past two days, and I don't feel like calling her. However, I think that the spelling and grammar are okay, and I didn't notice any glaring flaws, so hopefully it's good. And I say again, REVIEW, people! REVIEW!

**Chapter 19 – Dear Mom and Dad**

I walked out of the infirmary at seven o'clock that morning, my right hand immobilized by a cast and held against my chest by a sling.

To make a long story short, Storm was tired, and she accidentally misdirected the wind. I only just managed to stop my head from being cracked open on the brick path. However, I wasn't able to stop myself until _after_ my hand slammed into the ground.

I stepped into the elevator and rode it up to the first floor. Then I made a beeline for the kitchen. There was no school today, but there would probably be at least a few people in there.

There were only two people in the kitchen, as it turned out: Basil and my brother. They were sitting as far apart as they could get at the same table, and they were both glaring at each other, and eating their cereal with zombie-like motions.

"Hello."

They both jumped. Basil looked at me, grunted, and went back to eating. After glancing at me, Chris took a Cheerio out of his bowl, put it on the end of his spoon, and flung it at Basil.

"Have a bad landing?" he asked, completely ignoring the irate Basil, who was glaring at him hard enough to burn a hole in his head and cursing under his breath.

"Yeah." I opened the cereal cabinet and started pulling out boxes, on the search for anything that was at least ninety percent sugar.

Basil stood up abruptly, grabbed his bowl, dumped it in the sink, and walked out.

"I think that guy's got a very large pole up his ass," Chris told me before taking another bite of cereal.

I had succeeded in finding a half-full box of Trix, and I shrugged as I mentally reached up to get a bowl out of the cabinet above my head. "He seems okay when you're not around." I dumped my cereal into the bowl, then opened the fridge.

"How often are you around him on your own, anyway?"

I grabbed a carton of milk. I didn't have to read his mind to know what he was thinking. "Chris, I met him two days ago in science class. He's not exactly the friendliest person in the world. You don't need to be worried."

"I thought you were supposed to _ask_ before reading someone's mind."

"I didn't have to read your mind, stupid; you're my older brother. That's a typical thing for an older brother to think." I sat down beside him. "On a completely different note, what the heck were you two fighting about? I haven't seen you glare that hard since you left home."

Chris shrugged. "He just came in and started glaring at me. Like I said, the guy's got a pole up his ass. He's probably mad at me for poking fun at his food choices."

"If I see him today I'll ask him what's up. Not that he'll tell me," I said. "He's probably not the kind of person who would just start pouring out his heart to a stranger."

_Theresa?_

I guess asking permission didn't apply to fellow telepaths. _Yes?_

_After you're done eating, would you come see me? There's something I want to discuss with you._

* * *

"Theresa, I would like to start instructing you in the use of your powers." 

I pushed myself up a little straighter in the overly puffy chair. "What would you be teaching me?"

The Professor knitted his fingers together on top of the desk. "I will be teaching you more about your telekinesis, as well as helping you to develop your telepathy. You also seem to have the ability to project your consciousness to another location. I will be teaching you how to use that power as well."

"When do we start?" After my…issues yesterday, getting more control was definitely on top of my to-do list.

"I would like to have lessons after school, starting tomorrow, if that's convenient."

I nodded. "Sounds good to me."

He smiled. "Then I shall see you tomorrow afternoon, Theresa."

* * *

That afternoon, Basil and I got together again. We started out sitting on the Rec Room couch, but it was too loud for us to hear each other, so we relocated to the library. 

"How about we split the reading?" I suggested. "You read the first three sections, and I'll read the last three."

Basil nodded silently and started to read. I flipped the packet open and followed suit. We read for about ten minutes, then I said, "I something wrong? You seem a bit…well…irritable and nasty."

"Nothing's wrong!" he snapped. Then he stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I pushed myself to my feet. "Basil – "

But he was already gone.

* * *

_Wednesday, December 7th_

_I can say now that life is almost normal again. I have friends that have bad moods, I have my brother back, complete with pre-mutation attitude, and projects for school are giving me headaches. Ah, what a beautiful feeling._

_Basil is certainly…different. I can tell that he's got some problems on his mind. I do wish he didn't have such a bad attitude, though. Problems never get solved by trying to kill people. It's kind of irritating that he's always so crabby, though, because he's the only person here that's not related to me that might be considered a friend at some point in the future._

_I'm really glad that Chris is out of the infirmary. I didn't realize it, but I worried about him all the time he was in there. It seemed that while he was in there, that heart monitor could still flat-line, and I would lose my brother forever. Now that he's out, it's like I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. It's a very good feeling._

_I wonder what Willow's doing. She's probably got a much richer and fuller social life now that I'm not hanging out with her. Still, it would be nice to be able to call her or something. Her, and maybe my parents. After that little…vision, I guess, there's no other word for it, I don't hate them quite so much. They're not evil, they're just misguided. I just wish they didn't follow quite so blindly._

_Maybe I should write them a letter. They would probably like to know that I'm okay, despite the fact that I'm a "demon". I should get in contact with Willow, too. I need to apologize for trying to whack her in the head with my Geometry book. It wasn't very nice, and I shouldn't have taken my frustrations out on her. I think I'll go write to my parents right now._

* * *

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I just thought I'd write to let you know that I'm okay. I'm far away, in a safe place. Chris is with me._

_I know this won't make you change your thinking, but I would like you to know that Chris and I aren't demons. Not only us, but all the mutants that live here are perfectly normal. Lots of them are Christians. One of the people I met is very Catholic. I think you'd get along nicely. Maybe you'll be able to meet him sometime, when you figure out that we're all just different than you._

_Don't worry about me. I'm doing fine. I've started school, and I've made a few friends. I just wanted to let you know that I'm alive._

_Sincerely,_

_Theresa_

A/N: Just a small reminder to REVIEW now that you've reached the end of the chapter. Actually, I think I'll give you a preview of the next chapter while I'm at it. (I've picked up that little idea from another story I'm reading.)

_**Chapter 20 - Six Forty-Five**_

_"Theresa?" _

_"Egypt." _

_"Emily?" _

_"Brazil." _

_The Professor nodded. "Now that we've all decided on our country, it's time to find some research material. We'll be going to the library tomorrow. Today, we're going to be discussing the project in more detail. I have a handout for you all. Theresa, would you mind passing them out for me?"_


	20. Thank God It's Friday

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, and I don't own Basil. Nor do I own the projects given to me by my teachers that turned into excellent writing material.

A/N: I lied. I didn't call this chapter Six Forty-Five. That's the next chapter. And, if you're really, really good, you'll be able to figure out what Basil's power is in this chapter. In case anybody's starting to not like him, part of the reason he's so crabby all the time is because of his power. He can't control it, and that bugs him.

**Chapter 20 – Thank God It's Friday**

"Alright, class, today we're going to be working on UV Menace in the computer lab." Storm walked down the center aisle and opened the door. "Follow me."

As one unit, the class stood and formed a line behind Storm. I was standing in front of Basil and behind a girl whose name I didn't know. Then we all marched off towards the staircase in single file. How we ever managed to be so organized about it, I have no idea, as most of the time we formed mobs instead of lines.

Storm led us upstairs and down a hall. She opened a door on the end and ushered us all in. "Just pick a computer and turn it on," she said. "Also, sit beside your partner, although I shouldn't need to tell you that."

Basil made a huffing noise and glared at me, but reluctantly sat down beside me at the end of the center row. He looked more irritated than usual as he jabbed at the power button, hitting it only on the third attempt. I would have laughed at him, but I didn't want to aggravate him any more than necessary.

Needless to say, I was glad it was Friday, and the weekend was coming up, during which I would have no interaction with that guy whatsoever. God, he was annoying.

* * *

"Alright, do we all have our countries picked out?" Professor Xavier asked cheerfully. I hated it when teachers were that cheerful when they were assigning us a project. It just seemed a little…demented. 

We all nodded.

"Good. Sarah, what's your country?"

She grinned. "Portugal."

"Kerry?"

"France."

"Adam?"

Adam considered for a moment. "Denmark."

I was the second-to-last person. However, my prediction was correct, and almost everyone chose a country in Europe. There were a few deviations – Bangladesh, India, and China – but other than that, everyone picked a European country.

"Theresa?"

"Egypt."

"Emily?"

"Brazil."

The Professor nodded. "Now that we've all decided on our country, it's time to find some research material. We'll be going to the library tomorrow. Today, we're going to be discussing the project in more detail. I have a handout for you all. Theresa, would you mind passing them out for me?"

Were all the English teachers in the world ganging up on me? Did I have a curse on me or something?

* * *

"How's your day going so far?" I asked Chris as I sat down next to him at lunch. 

He sighed. "As good as it can be going on the first day of school, I suppose." He studied his chicken nuggets. "I don't think they get their chicken from the same place the school back home did."

"Definitely not."

"How's _your_ day going so far? Have you gotten any more projects?"

"No. If I had, you would have heard the screaming."

Chris laughed. "People three miles away would have heard the screaming, I'll bet."

"Have _you_ gotten any projects yet?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I've barely gotten any _homework_, much less projects."

"Lucky."

The bell rang. Without a parting word, we both stood up and put our dishes by the sink, along with all the other ones, then grabbed our books and left the kitchen for our next classes.

* * *

"Theresa, I think to start that you should tell me what you know about your powers." 

I thought about that for a moment. "Well…" I didn't really know much about my mutation. "I can move things with my mind, and I can read people's minds, and sometimes I go places when I dream. I don't really know any more than that."

Professor Xavier nodded. "You have discovered most of your abilities in regard to telekinesis and telepathy. However, your potential to 'go places' is still undeveloped." He paused. "The process of leaving your current surroundings and projecting your consciousness into another location is called remote viewing. Some telepaths have the ability do remotely view an event as it happens. However, as you have telekinetic abilities, you seem to able to interact with your environment, which telepathy alone doesn't allow. With training, you should be able to remotely visit a place consciously."

"Cool." So I could visit my parents or Willow whenever I wanted. That would be a nice thing to be able to do.

"We're going to start off, though, with your telekinesis. When you develop a higher degree of control, you will be able to levitate yourself, as well as extremely heavy objects. Lifting things shouldn't be terribly hard. The most difficult thing will be to release yourself from the mindset that you have to exert more force to lift a heavier object. Telekinesis pays no regard to weight, so when you lift something large, one of two things will probably happen. You could lift it at a great speed, or you could be unable to lift it due to the fact that you expect to be unable to."

I sat there for a moment processing that. "Okay. I think I get it. I can lift anything if I believe I can, sort of like Luke on Star Wars."

The Professor nodded. "Precisely." He put a pen on the desk in front of him. "Lift this for me."

That was easy. I reached out and levitated it a few inches. "Is this good."

He nodded. "Yes." He took the pen out of the air, then pointed to the bookshelf along one wall. "Can you lift the red dictionary?"

I studied the shelf, looking for the dictionary. Then I found it, gripped it with my mind, pulled it off the shelf, and moved it over above Professor Xavier's desk.

"Good. Now can you try to lift that chair?"

* * *

I was sitting in my room later that night, finishing up my math homework, when all of a sudden, there was a small whooshing noise, and I felt a weight on the end of my bed. I looked to my right and saw – "Basil?" 

He stared at me with wide eyes. He looked…different, somehow, then he had when I had seen him earlier that day. Something about his eyes, maybe. It looked like something was wrong. Actually, it almost looked like he had been crying.

"Theresa! I never thought – " He stopped abruptly. "I shouldn't – I can't – I have to go." With another small whoosh of air, he was gone.

I stared at the place where he had been. What had just happened? Why had Basil suddenly appeared in my room? And why did he leave so suddenly. It looked like he wanted to say something, and yet he didn't. I shook my head and turned back to my homework. I would think about it after my math was done.


	21. Seven Fifteen

Disclaimer: We all know what goes here, right? Right. No need to sue me.

A/N: I feel like my writing is getting worse. (cries) This is a really bad chapter, and I'm sorry. I'll definitely try harder next time. This time, though, I just wanted it out of my head and onto FFN. I'll get better as time goes on, I promise.

**Chapter 21 – Seven Fifteen**

I was rudely awakened that morning by a loud buzzing noise. I reached one hand from under the blankets and whacked at my alarm clock. However, the noise didn't stop.

Blearily, I lifted my head and looked at the clock: seven fifteen in the morning. On a Saturday.

I pounded on the wall beside my bed. "Chris!"

Through the wall, I heard muffled cursing. "It's not me!"

I didn't have the energy or ambition to try to figure out whose alarm it was. Instead, I put my pillow over my head and arranged myself so that both my ears were covered.

When I found that person that left their alarm on… I didn't know what I was going to, but it probably wasn't going to be pretty.

* * *

"We need to include the Christians of Alabama in our prayers," Pastor John said solemnly. "There are demons there, and we must pray that our brothers are able to defeat them."

Everyone in the room put their heads down, closed their eyes, and linked hands.

"Heavenly Father, we pray to you that our comrades in Alabama will be able to defeat Satan in the name of God, and that they will return to their homes and families alive and well, and that those who don't will be able to revel in your glory forever more. Amen."

"Amen," everyone murmured.

* * *

My eyes snapped open. If that was a dream, it was certainly the most real one I had had in a long time. It was almost like the time I saw Chris in the cave, only this time I wasn't seeing from someone else's eyes. I was there, but I couldn't do anything. I could, however, hear, and that was what counted.

I pushed myself up and looked at the clock: seven forty-five. I didn't know if Professor Xavier was up yet, but if he wasn't, he was going to be. _Professor?_

There was no response. Just moments after I spoke, though, I could have sworn I heard my words come back to me, like an echo. I guess I hadn't reached him. Maybe he had some sort of mental shields. Why he would need them, though, was a mystery to me.

Sighing, I stood up and hunted around for some clothes. I would have to go talk to him in person.

After I got dressed, I slipped quietly out of my room. I didn't know how many of the people on the hall were still asleep, and I didn't want to wake anyone up.

When I got to his door, I stopped. It sounded like there was somebody else in there. I hesitated for a moment, then knocked.

The voices stopped. "Come in," Professor Xavier called.

I opened the door and stepped inside. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything, Professor, but I think that CAMD is going to attack a bunch of mutants somewhere in Alabama."

His eyes narrowed. "How much do you know?"

"I don't know exactly what's going on, but I know it's in Alabama. Pastor John said something about defeating Satan in the name of God."

The Professor wheeled out from behind his desk. The room's other occupant stood up. It was Basil. He had been so still I hadn't noticed him.

"We will continue this lesson tomorrow, Basil," Professor Xavier said to him. Then he motored past me and out the open door.

Basil stood there glaring at me. "Thanks," he said dryly. Then he pushed past me out the door.

I thought of last night, when he had suddenly shown up in my room. "Basil!" I called. "Wait a second!"

He didn't wait. He didn't even turn around. "Basil!"

Still no response. I sighed. I'd have to ask him another time, preferably when he wasn't in such a bad mood. Oh, wait. There was no such time.

* * *

I sat on my bed, staring into space. Since I had been the one who knew about the attack, it seemed like it was my burden. There was no word on what was happening. No word if they were too late. It was driving me batty.

_Theresa._

I jumped. _Professor?_

_The team is reporting in. Would you like to hear their news?_

_Yes!_ I pushed myself off the bed and almost flew out the door. If there was going to be any word on how the mission went, I wanted to hear it firsthand.

When I arrived down in the communications room in the basement, Professor Xavier was talking to someone on the radio. He looked up when I came into the room. "So far the mission has gone well."

There was definitely more to that than he was telling. However, I refrained from saying anything.

"How many casualties?" Professor Xavier asked.

There was a pause. "Three so far. There's a lot of wounded. There might have been a few more inside the building when it blew. Storm took some damage, I have a few scratches, Wolverine took heavy fire damage, but he's fine, and there are a lot of wounded mutants from the rescue site."

"Hurry home, Scott." Professor Xavier turned to me. "Would you be willing to help with the wounded?"

I nodded. "I want to help however I can."

* * *

"Theresa, I need another stretcher!"

I turned around ran back towards the infirmary. I skidded through the door and yanked open a door to my right. "We're out!" I yelled back.

There was loud cursing – Wolverine. "Give her to me, I'll carry her."

I stepped back out the door. There were only a dozen refugees left, and of them, only four were wounded.

"I can get there by myself," the woman insisted weakly. She had a long cut down her arm, but it looked shallow. Her face was covered in soot, but other than that, she looked alright. "Really, look after Jack first." She pointed at the man behind her. The right side of his face was black and blistering, and there was blood on his shirt.

Scott studied her for a minute, then looked at the man. "Logan."

Logan stepped forward, slipped his arms under the man, and hefted him with a huge grunt. Then he carted him off towards the infirmary, walking as fast as he could.

I came up to Scott and the woman. "May I assist you, ma'am?" I asked politely, extending my hand to her. She was a wounded lady. It was the least I could do.

She smiled weakly. "Thank you." She took my hand, and I steadied her on the way to the infirmary.

She was greeted by a few other people when she got into the infirmary. It was crowded in there with the fifty or so people they had picked up. "Thank you."

I nodded. "You're welcome." Then I turned around and went back out to the jet to help the rest of the survivors.


	22. Never Cross a Ditz

Disclaimer: Please tell me we all know what goes here. Do I look like I'm making money?

A/N: I am so sorry, both for how long this took and for the fact that it's ever-so-slightly cheezy. This chapter is also beta-less, as Jack seems to have gone on a trip and can't be reached, dang her. Ah well. I think I did okay regardless. Also, I credit the idea for this chapter to Levanna, as she said something in her review that got me thinking.

**Chapter 22 – Never Cross a Ditz**

I was really starting to get sick of Professor Xavier's office. Not that it was a bad place or anything, but when you spend large amounts of time there, you get tired of it. And I had been in there for a decent amount of time on an almost-daily basis. It was starting to get a little bit annoying.

However, this time I wasn't alone with the Professor. There was a girl sitting in the chair next to me. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen. The only problem I had with her was that she looked like a complete ditz, and that really bugged me.

"Theresa," the Professor said, "I would like you to meet Clarise." He gestured at the person beside me.

Clarise turned and smiled at me. "Hi."

My first impulse was to gag. Her voice matched her looks, and her name definitely didn't clash with either. She was a girly-girl through and through. "Hello."

"Theresa, Clarise is the leader of the Junior X-Men," Professor Xavier explained.

"The X-Kids," Clarise said. "We're the X-Men-in-training."

"Cool," I said. I didn't want to say any more. There wasn't anything more I could really say without flat out lying, and even what I did say was stretching the truth a bit. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't liking the course of this conversation at all. There was really only one way it could go… And I didn't really like that direction…

"Theresa, I asked you here to know if you might want to join the…X-Kids," Professor Xavier told me. I had some comfort in the way he said that team name, which certainly showed that he didn't like it anymore than I did.

"Don't I need more training?"

He studied me. "I believe that you would benefit more from a combination of my teaching and some team combat experience."

I sat there for a moment, weighing the options. On the one hand, I had the fact that I already disliked Clarise, and the less time I had to spend in her ditzy presence, the better. However, on the other hand, the prospect of being on some kind of official team – even one with as stupid-sounding name as "X-Kids" – was rather appealing.

"Please?" Clarise said. She was staring at me. She was one of those people with those big blue eyes that just lend themselves to extreme emotions.

"Um…okay." I hoped that I wasn't going to regret this.

Clarise grinned. "That's great! Come on, I'm going to take you to meet the rest of the team!" With that, she grabbed my arm, pulled me out of the chair, and dashed out of the room with me in tow. Oh God, not only was she a complete ditz, she was one of the ones with boundless energy!

"I told them to be ready to meet you," she said as she pulled me towards the Rec Room. "They should be waiting." She pulled me into the Rec Room, then stopped and looked around. "There they are!" she said, tugging me over towards the far corner. There were three people there, standing in a tight huddle.

"Hi guys!" Clarise said, nearly bouncing up beside them.

The girl nearest to us jumped and spun around. "Oh! You scared me!"

"Hey Clarise," the other girl said coolly. She had long, shocking violet hair, but despite this, she seemed to be the most normal of the bunch. "Is this the new recruit?"

Clarise nodded enthusiastically. "This is Theresa." She pointed to the purple-haired girl. "This is Eva." Then she pointed to the other girl. "This is Lynette." Lastly, she gestured at the remaining member of the group – a slightly younger boy who was leaning against the wall. "This is Andrew."

He nodded impassively to me. "Hello," he said calmly. He seemed very misty to me. I didn't have to read his mind to see that he wasn't really there mentally.

"So, are we ready to go down to the Danger Room and see how well we work together?" Clarise asked.

"Um," I said, "I have no idea how to fight." This seemed a little too soon to put me into a combat situation.

Eva grinned at me lazily. "What's your power?"

"I'm a psychic."

"Fling stuff around and try to hit stuff. And if worst comes to worst, you can stand inside my force field if you like."

"Thanks."

On the way down to the Danger Room, Clarise told me about the rest of the team.

"Eva makes force fields. You don't want to be caught where it comes down, because you will get chopped in half. So far she hasn't hit any of us, and I hope she never does. Lynette – she controls electricity. We think that's the reason she's so jumpy and energetic. She's zapped us so many times I can't count them. Andrew's a psychic in a way, too, I guess. He knows what's going to happen before it happens – you know, like the people using the Force on Star Wars. It's like that." She paused for breath. "Oh yeah, Eva's codename is Shell, Lynette's is Zappy, and Andrew's is Oracle. Mine is Fang."

I almost burst out laughing at the thought of this complete ditz being called Fang. "What's your power?"

She grinned slyly. "You'll see."

"You're gonna need a codename too," Lynette said from behind me. I almost didn't understand her because of how fast she spoke. "Whaddaya want us to call ya?"

I shrugged. "You guys can pick. I don't really care."

Nobody said anything. Apparently my power didn't really lend itself to a good codename.

"We'll think of one for you," Clarise said brightly. "Let's go get our uniforms on."

I raised my eyebrows. I remembered those bulky-looking leather uniforms I had seen the X-Men wearing. I honestly hoped that we wouldn't have uniforms that looked like that. I wasn't anxious to try and pull off that look.

Thankfully, they didn't look like that. Actually, they were more the kind of clothes you see on people when they're doing karate. They were quite comfortable, and I liked mine. It was a little big, but heck, having pants that were longer than I needed was a good feeling.

After we got dressed we all traipsed across the hall to the Danger Room. Just before we went in, Clarise stopped us.

"This is a fairly easy simulation," she said. "Nothing huge, just some normal people with guns. There's plenty of stuff to hide behind. Everybody ready?"

Everyone but me nodded. I said, "Um…I guess."

"Let's go!" Clarise said cheerily. She walked into the room, and the rest of us followed her.

It was at that point that everything started going wrong.

As soon as the door closed behind us, the silver room started to change. "Starting simulation," said a cool female voice. The room had – by this time – turned into a large grassy meadow. The sun was shining, and the grass was waving in the breeze.

I looked over at Clarise. Everyone else was looking at her, too.

"I don't think this is right," she said quietly.

This assertion was confirmed when at least five huge mechanical monsters appeared around us, the huge guns in their hands pointed directly at us.

"Uh-oh," Clarise said. "This isn't good!" She looked up at the simulated sky. "Stop the simulation!" she screamed at it.

"Simulation stop disabled," the cool female voice informed her.

"Shit," Eve said, looking from one monster to the next. "Why on earth did you turn the stop off, Fang?"

Clarise looked very upset. "I didn't! If I ever find the person that did this I'll – "

The rest of her sentence was cut off as the machines opened fire on our little group. I screamed. The fire passed over my head as Eve tackled me. I could see the shimmery transparent violet of her force field above our heads. The ground under Clarise and Lynette's feet had been blown out from under them, and they had flown backwards at least ten feet. Andrew had managed to sidestep the gunfire.

"Oh!" Clarise said, holding up one hand in front of her face. "I broke a nail!" She looked up at the machines. "That does it!"

"We need to move!" Eve screamed. She yanked me upright and pulled me towards the nearest monster. As its gun tracked us, we shot between its legs. It tried to follow us with the gun, but after it had bent down more than halfway, it toppled forwards into the grass.

I looked back at the machine struggling to get up from the grass. In hindsight, it was very amusing to see a huge monster killing machine lying in the grass as helpless as it was because it just couldn't balance. However, at the time, it didn't seem at all funny. It was terrifying.

As I watched, a light-colored, human-like thing came hurtling towards the machine on the grass. As it ran, it decidedly more doglike, until it was running on all fours, its teeth bared. It was certainly the biggest dog I had ever seen. It hurled itself on the back of the monster's neck and began ripping and clawing at whatever it could reach.

"Is that – " I started.

"Yes!" Eve said as she looked around and saw the monster that had started to come towards us. "Now can you figure out how to fend for yourself so I can go deal with this thing?"

"Sure," I said. However, she had already run off towards the monster, zigzagging through the grass the throw off the gun.

For a few minutes I just stood there. Nobody seemed to be making much headway against the machines. Clarise's teeth didn't seem to be making any mark on the metal, Eve's force fields couldn't reach far enough to do any real damage, and Lynette's electrical shocks didn't seem to be doing anything more than aggravating her monster. Andrew was performing what appeared from a distance to be a complicated dance of some kind to avoid the lasers blasting down around him.

After about five minutes one of the machines attacking Andrew seemed to realize that there was another person to beat on. Leaving Andrew to it's partner, it started lumbering towards me.

It was at that point that I realized that I was completely and totally on my own. I was going to have to deal with this by myself, and I wasn't liking that idea. I braced myself for the inevitable shot from that huge gun. I reached out blindly with my mind, trying to do something – anything – that might stop that stupid monster. I didn't really see much to do. I couldn't summon up enough power to stop it completely, and it didn't seem to have an off switch. I couldn't really see much I could do. It was still advancing on me with that gun when I thought of an idea.

I reached out with my mind, grabbed that huge gun with it, and pulled as hard as I could. The machine didn't let go, though it did seem to lose its aim, and it stumbled forward. I pulled again, this time trying to loosen the fingers with my mind as well. That time it worked, and the gun flew out of its hand and into the air.

For a moment we both just stood there staring at the levitated gun between us. Then I spun the weapon around, pointed it at the thing's head, and went hunting for the trigger. I found it easily and pulled it.

One headless monster collapsed in the grass, its neck smoking. I cheered and swung the gun around to point at the next closest machine, which happened to be the one that was now attempting to step on Andrew with its huge metal feet. I pulled the trigger again, and it flew backwards, a hole burned through its chest.

Lynette and Clarise had been pinned between the two monsters they were fighting. They stood back to rump, unable to do much. The machines were keeping up enough fire that they couldn't run to the sides, and they weren't able to run past them any other way.

Just as the first monster was going to fire on them, I fired on it. As soon as I did, Clarise and Lynette ran as fast as they could over the thing, the second one behind them following, its gun still firing.

It was then that Eve's force fields started to have some effect. She finally managed to get enough power behind it to sever the machine's foot, and – balance lost – it collapsed face-first onto the ground. Eve jumped on top of its head and I saw a shimmery sheet of violet come down between the body and the neck. After that, it didn't move to get up.

Tearing myself away from the sight of Eve jumping up and down triumphantly on the dead machine's head, I leveled my gun at the last machine and shot. As soon as the shot connected, the room began to change, becoming silver again.

"Simulation complete," said the voice.

Everyone in the room slumped down and gave a huge sigh of relief.

"If I _ever_ find who disabled that stupid switch," Clarise said menacingly, "I swear that I will rip their throat out." With that, she hopped up on her hind legs and turned slowly back into herself.

"I'm never gonna feel safe coming in here again," Lynette declared, looking from side to side wildly. "Even the X-Men woulda had a hard time with that."

Eve nodded. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

At dinner, it seemed that Clarise had found her culprit.

"How _dare_ you!" she shrieked, causing the entire room to go very quiet. "You almost got us _killed_! What do you have to say for yourself?"

A boy roughly my age cowered in front of her. "It was just a joke! I didn't know – "

"You didn't know that you had made it that hard? You didn't know what simulation you changed it to? You just twiddled some levers?" Clarise was shaking with rage, and I thought I could see some hair creeping across her face. "You idiot!"

With that, she slapped him across the face, leaving four lines where her fingernails – which were probably more like claws at that point – had raked across it.

What was I saying about her being a ditz?


	23. Dear Diary II

Disclaimer: If you don't know what goes here by now, you must be the thickest person in existence.

A/N: This is another short chapter. However, I think I did okay with it. I might start updating a bit faster now, because I think I've finally figured how to get to where this story is eventually going. I'm starting to see how the beginning connects to the end, I guess. Also, I apologize for any random mistakes, as this is un-beta-ed. That seems to be my recent trend.

**Chapter 23 – Dear Diary II**

_Monday, December 12__th_

_Some of the mutants from Alabama got released from the infirmary today. Most of them are staying here – they don't have anywhere else to go – but some of them are going back to Alabama. They're going home. I wish I could go home. It's nice here, and I love it, but it's still not _home.

_I suppose it's not that I _want_ to go home, it's that I want to be _able_ to go home. No matter how much I hated it at times, it was my home. I guess it isn't home anymore, though. I need to get used to the idea that the mansion is home now._

_On a happier note, I now have someone to complain with about the Culture Project. Eve is in my English class, and she picked India as her country. Apparently it's as much of a headache as Egypt. See, all the travel books in the library are about European countries. The only books that I could find dealing with Egypt were about the great pyramids. For God's sake, I know all about the pyramids! Everybody does! According to Eve, the only books she can find are ones about Gandhi. That's gotta be even more annoying than the pyramids._

_We only have one teacher in World History now. Kurt left to teach seventh grade social studies. I'm going to miss the two of them arguing over pronunciation._

_Well, there's not much more to say. I should probably get to sleep now – it's past midnight._

* * *

_Wednesday, December 14__th_

_Forgive me for not writing yesterday. Between UV Menace, Professor Xavier's lesson in telepathy, and a team meeting we had, I barely had time to do my homework._

_Basil was extra-grouchy today. I don't think it helped his mood at all when I told him to shut up during science when he was muttering darkly at his book. However, he didn't talk to me for the rest of the day, so it was worth it. The less he talks to me, the better. God, he's annoying._

_Oh! I nearly forgot the good news! Chris was given a clean bill of health today. He celebrated it by jumping out his third-floor bedroom window. Apparently he gave a couple of people outside quite a fright, as he didn't open his wings until he was about two feet from the ground. He did some pretty fancy aerial stunts, too. However, he almost hit his head on the mansion wall while he was trying to fly upside down. After that he landed. I guess he didn't want to get hurt again so soon after he got the news that he didn't have to go to the infirmary every other day._

_I thought of a codename for myself today, too. That's what the meeting was about. I am officially called Kestrel. She's a character from _The Windsinger_. You find out in the next book of the series that she's a psychic of sorts. I told Andrew and Eve, and they seemed to think it was a fitting name for me. I don't really know why, but it does seem to work._

_You know, I'm really glad my parents told me to write in a diary. This is a great stress reliever. I used to keep all my feelings bottled up until they exploded. That didn't work well. Now I don't so much. It's nice._

* * *

_Thursday, December 15__th_

_The X-Men got called away on a mission just after lunch, so we got the rest of the day off school. Since the X-Kids (shudder) are X-Men-in-training, does that mean that someday we're going to be going away at all hours of the day or night to almost get killed? Somehow I can't picture myself doing that. At least, I can't picture myself doing it for very long. It's been noted in the Danger Room that I'm not all that quick about seeing danger. I nearly got fried by a guy spewing fire yesterday. I believe that Eve said I was, "A bit slow on the uptake."_

_It wasn't until today that I realized that I only have ten days to get my Christmas shopping done. The problem is, I don't even know who I'm going to get stuff for. Seeing as I only really know five people, I could get them all something. I don't count Basil on this list. He's too hateful to be called a friend. Though if I see a book about personality disorders, I might consider getting him something…_

_Hmm…what to get? I should get Lynette one of those stress-relief balls that you squeeze. God knows she needs it. And I'll get Andrew…I'll get him some tarot cards. He'd probably like that. At least, that would be my guess. I don't think anybody knows what he really likes. I think I'll get Eve…actually, I have no idea what I would get her. She's so _normal_, she doesn't really have any easily identifiable tastes. I suppose I'll figure out what to get people when I go shopping. I think that Storm said something about going to the mall this weekend._

_I wonder if the X-Men are going to be back tomorrow. I hope they are. The mansion seems rather…empty without them. The Professor's worried when they're gone, too, and I think he accidentally projects that onto the rest of us. We're all in a rather dismal mood. That's really bad for people like Basil that are incredibly dismal already. Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen him all afternoon. He just disappeared._

_Well, I'm going to go look for something more interesting to do. Maybe somebody'll play air hockey with me. _


	24. What a Tangled Web

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I don't own it. We all know this by now, right? Right.

A/N: I love how having Christmas in a story gives you ready-made scenes of putting up decorations and so forth. It's even more fun to write when you have people that can float and fly. The possibilities are endless! Not to mention, I think this chapter might just be one of my best yet. And to my buddy Daniel, yes, I named the guy after you. I needed a name. Oh, and I've determined from this chapter that I'm incapable of typing the word "tangle." It always wants to come out "tabgled." If it's spelled like that...well...ignore it. Please.

**Chapter 24 – What a Tangled Web**

I woke up at six thirty, thanks to my oh-so-wonderful alarm clock. I pulled one arm out from under my nice warm blankets and flailed for the snooze button. I managed to hit it on the fourth attempt, then I curled myself into a tiny ball to conserve body heat and let my eyes drop closed.

Before I could get back to sleep, however, someone opened my door up wide. "Get up, Theresa! We have things to do!" Oh God, somebody's a morning person.

I sat up blearily, unfurled my legs from their cramped position, and glared at the person who dared to wake me up. "Ungh?" That was supposed to mean, "What are you doing in my room at six thirty in the morning?" but it didn't come out quite right.

Clarise dumped three cardboard boxes loudly on the floor beside my med. "I decided that while the X-Men are out, we should decorate the mansion a little. We're going to start with the lights. There's a lot, but I figure that if we each take three boxes apiece, we should have them done by lunchtime."

I shook my head dazedly. "So what you're saying is this: These lights are hopelessly tangled, and we're supposed to make them not tangled." Gosh, that sounded intelligent.

"Yeah," she said. "You might want some help. I want to get started on some other decorations after lunch, so our goal is to get them untangled and hung by lunchtime." With that, she turned and left the room, probably to go bring the bad news to the rest of the X-Kids (GAG!).

After she left, I pounded on the wall by my bed. "Chris!"

A few seconds later I got a sleepy-sounding reply: "Wha'?"

"Come help me untangle Christmas lights!" I commanded, pressing my ear against the wall.

I heard movement on the other side. "Can't it wait?" Chris asked groggily.

"No! I need to get done before lunch, and there are three very full boxes of very tangled lights on my floor. Get over here."

More movement. "Alright, Theresa, I'm coming."

A few minutes later Chris arrived in my room and stared at me. He was wearing sweat pants and an old blue T-shirt that had a roaring wildcat on the front. His wings were visible up above his shoulders, and his feathers were sticking out at odd angles.

I was already sitting on the floor leaning against the bed and struggling with a nasty knot in a string of red and green lights. "Sit down and make yourself at home," I told him. "This might take a while."

Chris grabbed a string of white lights out of one of the boxes and sat down on the bed. He pulled on the end of the string, and the box it was trailing from promptly tipped over, spewing a huge knot of lights out onto the floor.

"Start with a different box," I suggested. "That's a four-person job."

Chris glared reproachfully at the mass of wires and bulbs on the floor in front of him and muttered something that sounded like, "It's a four-_bomb_ job, more like." Then he grabbed another string of lights off the top of another box and set to work tugging at it. "Accursed things."

I had to agree.

* * *

Two hours later, we were no closer to finishing the job than we were when we started.

"This is hopeless!" Chris said loudly, throwing down his third string, which still had a fair-sized knot in the middle. "We'll never get through this by lunch!"

I thought for a minute as I pulled the last tangle out of my string. "I might be able to get another person in here to help."

"Go for it," said Chris, not really paying attention, as he had returned his attention to the knot. "How the hell did these things get so damn tangled? What do these people _do_ to their lights?"

After I thought about it, though, I realized that the one person outside Chris and the X-Kids (shudder) that I knew was downright nasty, not to mention that I had no idea where he would be at this hour of the morning. "Do you know anybody?"

Chris stared at me. "Nope. I'm a right social butterfly."

Since I didn't know what else to do, I closed my eyes and started trying to find Basil with my telepathy. It didn't take me long to find him. He was a very distinctive person.

_Basil?_

I felt a shock of fear travel along the mental link. I guess I must have startled him pretty badly. _What the hell are you doing?_

_I need some help._

There was quite a bit of hostility coming along that mental link now that the fear abated. _Get somebody else. I don't want to help._

I sighed. _Come _on_, Basil! Just get up here and help me!_

There was complete silence. _Fine. Don't expect me to be happy about it, though._

_I didn't expect that in the first place,_ I assured him. Then I opened my eyes and let the link between us fade away. "Basil's coming," I told Chris.

He looked at the ceiling. "That moron? You actually asked _him_ to help? This is going to be fun, isn't it?"

I glared at him. "Get a grip, Chris. I don't need two dark-and-moody guys in here. One's quite enough."

"So he's not coming?"

"Just shut up."

"Oh, that's a stupid insult."

"Well, you have a stupid face, so just put a lid on it." Why is it that I can't think up good insults?

We didn't talk much after that.

* * *

"Do you ever say anything?" Chris asked Basil. We were almost done with the minor tangles, and we only had the giant box knot left to deal with after we finished our respective strings.

Basil glared unblinkingly at Chris. "No." He went back to his tangle, which was rapidly decreasing in size. He was quite a good detangler.

"You just said something," Chris pointed out. Basil just made a noise that sounded like "hmph" and continued working out his knot.

I finished coiling the last string of lights around my arm and set it on the floor with the other neatly coiled strings. "I'm gonna get started on enormo-knot."

Chris just nodded, and Basil gave no indication that he'd heard me at all. Sighing, I pulled the ball of bulbs and wire towards me and began to pick at it. When I had invited – no, I had _convinced_ – Basil to come up here, I didn't expect that it would completely kill all the happiness and sociability in the entire room. His personality was _that_ bad.

Basil wrapped his finally unknotted string of lights viciously around his arm and tossed them down on the floor. Then he edged towards the huge knot, getting as close as he could while not coming within arms reach of Chris or me. Then he began to silently attack the knot with more hostility than was needed.

"Done!" Chris said triumphantly, brandishing the last single string of lights. He dumped it on the floor with the others and knelt down with Basil and I to start in on the biggest knot in history. "This looks fun."

Basil glared at him. "Yeah. Fun." Then he went back to the knot.

"Are you always this nasty," Chris asked him irritably, "or is it just a morning thing?"

I almost thought I heard a snarl come out of Basil. "Are you always this annoying, or is it just a personality thing?"

Both of them glared at each other ferociously for a moment, then went back to the knot in stony silence. It was a very uncomfortable situation for me. I was stuck in the middle of the combatants. That's never a good position, because then they might _both_ end up hating me. I hoped it wouldn't come to that. So, to facilitate the peace, I stayed silent too. It was no use trying to get them talking anyway. They were too stubborn.

* * *

"Why are you draping tinsel all over my wings?" Chris asked mildly, looking over his shoulder at Lynette, who was standing behind him with what appeared to be a full box of tinsel. She was very carefully placing it over his wings.

"You would look interesting with shiny wings," Lynette told him, carefully balancing a few more strands of tinsel on his feathers. "You'd look like some sort of angel."

He snorted. "So you want me to stand with my wings spread out all day while you decorate me with tinsel? And what am I supposed to do after you're done?"

"How about posing for a picture?" I suggested. I was floating up near the ceiling, a long string of colored lights in one hand and a staple gun in the other. I shot another staple into the wall, holding up the next bit of wire. "Chris, the Angel of Light." I paused and considered for a moment. "Or maybe we could nail you to the wall so you could make the wall look pretty. You'd be a nice Christmas decoration.

Eve looked up and rolled her eyes at me. "Sounds fun." She turned back to the string of lights she was tacking to the stairs with thumbtacks. "I'm glad I don't have wings."

"Yes, be glad," Chris said. "Not only do people attempt to turn you into some sort of tinsel-y angel, you have to cut holes in the back of all your shirts. It's a pain."

We all laughed a bit at that.

"Well, now I know what to get you for Christmas," I said. "I'll get you some fabric scissors. Then you can cut your shirts with a super-sharp blade instead of a dull one."

"Thank you, Theresa," he said, voice dripping in sarcasm. "That's just what I've always wanted. I'll get you a little set of butt-pads for when you fall out of the air when you're trying to float. Might that help?"

"Shut up!" I told him, brandishing the staple gun. It was true that I still wasn't too good about getting down from the heights I got myself to. I was putting up lights in the entrance hall earlier, and I…uh…fell from the ceiling and landed on my bum. It hurt. Quite badly. It wasn't fun.

Just then, we heard the front door open. "That's Clarise," said Andrew. He was in charge of changing the bulbs in some of the lights that didn't work. He also had the job of Decoration Breakage Preventer. So far none of us had dropped anything – indeed, we didn't yet have anything to drop – but you never knew. We might drop some stuff later, especially when we're decorating the tree.

Clarise came into the room, cheeks red from the cold. There were a few other students – ones that hadn't gone with the ones that could drive to get Christmas presents for people – behind her, looking equally chilled. Bobby was one of the, and the other one I didn't know.

"Theresa, can you come help us with the tree?" Clarise asked, her teeth chattering. "You can probably move it better than we can."

I sighed, released the lights, and did my best to make a graceful descent. However, that didn't work, and I ended up landing on my butt again. Chris cracked up, and I pointed the staple gun at him. "Not one word." I stood up, set the staple gun on the floor by the end of the lights, then went out into the entrance hall to help them with the tree.

"Do you need us to help you?" Clarise asked.

I shook my head, eyeing the massive tree. "I think I can get it. Are you sure that's gonna fit in there?"

She nodded. "It should. I measured, and it's two feet shorter than the room."

I guess I hadn't realized that the room was that big. "Okay. Just stay clear of the doorway." I reached out with my mind and grabbed the gigantic tree by both ends. Then I started backing through the doorway I had just come through, pulling the thing after me.

We had gotten all the way to the center of the room before we realized that we had no tree stand.

"Where's the box with the tree stand?" Clarise called through the branches to Andrew. "I thought I brought it down!"

He shook his head. "No. I don't know where it is."

Clarise looked at Eve and Lynette through the needles. "Eve, Lynette, can you – " She broke off as she saw what Lynette was doing to Chris's wings. "Lynette, what are you doing?"

"Making him look like an angel!" she declared, putting another strand of tinsel on.

I rolled my eyes. "Can you guys please hurry up? This thing's starting to get a little bit heavy. Not to mention standing here is rather boring."

Eve and Lynette – the latter reluctantly laying the box of tinsel down and skirting around the tree – went upstairs, presumably towards the attic, to look for the tree stand.

As soon as Lynette was gone, Chris dropped his wings, and all the silvery tinsel fell to the floor in one great wave. He picked off a few stray strands as he spoke. "Thank God! You have no _idea_ how itchy that stuff is!" He pulled one wing out in front of him, inspecting it, then released it and pulled on the other.

"Where the heck did you find a tree this big?" I asked after Chris was finished picking tinsel off himself.

"Well, we found it a little way into the woods around back. It was actually one of the smaller ones."

"I'd hate to see the biggest ones," I muttered. "I'm gonna stand this thing up." I carefully tipped the tree up to a more tree-like position, the top branches just touching the ceiling. I hoped they would find the stand soon.

* * *

"We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a ha – "

"Hey!" Eve yelled from the top of the stairs. We all stopped our roaring rendition of the carol and looked up at her. "We can't find the tree stand anywhere!"

I groaned. "You really looked everywhere?"

"Everywhere," Lynette confirmed. "We can't find it." She looked more stressed than usual, and I could see bolts of electricity going through her hair.

"I'll call up Daniel," Clarise said, heading for the door. "I'll have him get a tree stand while he's in town. They should be coming back soon, so hopefully you won't have to hold that thing up much longer, Theresa."

"Thanks!" I called after her.

Chris shot another staple into the wall. "God rest ye merry gentlemen…"

* * *

About an hour and a half later, a tall guy – probably about Clarise's age – came into the living room. He was holding a box under one arm.

"Yes!" I yelled. I swear I almost hugged him. "You are my hero!"

He grinned and opened the box. Out of it came a brand new, very large tree stand. He passed me and slipped it under the trunk of the pine tree. "Lower away," he said.

I carefully set the tree down into the stand, making sure that it was still straight. The guy – who I assumed was probably Daniel – tightened the screws, and I was finally able to release the stupid tree.

"Thank you," I said again. "You have just made my day."

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "No problem." Then he went out the door again.

I could smell the cookies Eve and Andrew were making. I shot out the door towards the kitchen. However, I was stopped short when I tripped on a box that was lying on the floor. It was folded shut, and cursing loudly because my toe hurt, I opened it.

At that point, I decided that we should always find the tree stand before we brought the Christmas tree in.


	25. The Giving of Gifts

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, and I don't own Basil Martin. I do own Theresa and Christopher Scott, Lynette, Clarise, Eve, and Andrew. And the random little kid. 

A/N: So, I've finally gotten this chapter out. It's out of season, but I don't care. I'm just glad I've cleared this particular hurdle. School's out in a couple weeks, so I'll be writing more then (hopefully).

**Chapter 25 – The Giving of Gifts**

I was rudely awoken on December 25th by a high, loud voice.

"Get up! Get up! It's Christmas, and Santa left us presents! Get up!"

I opened my eyes blearily and stared at the source of the noise. A boy, probably about six years old, was standing at the end of my bed, almost jumping up and down with excitement. "Uh?" I asked stupidly. I glanced at the digital clock behind me – 5:34 AM. But then, it was Christmas.

Sighing, I pulled myself out of bed and shooed the boy – who had sky-colored skin, I now noticed – out of my room. I grabbed my bathrobe from the closet and pulled it on over my Scottie-dog pajamas. Then I opened the door, walked down the hall, and trudged rather sleepily down the stairs.

Once I got into the living room, I was wide awake. Every child below the age of ten was gathered around the enormous Christmas tree, hunting through the presents trying to find the ones with their names on them. I smiled, watching the kids ripping the paper off presents and showing off their new toys. I sat down against the wall by the door, just wanting to watch the little kids.

"Fancy seeing you here," Chris said, plunking himself down beside me. His wings were drawn up around his body, and there were goosebumps on his arms. "So, were you jumped on by some crazy little kid that was yelling about Santa Claus?"

I snorted. "Just screamed at." I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them, still watching the kids' wild present-opening. "I remember when I had that much enthusiasm."

Chris made a face. "I do too. Remember how we used to go and wake up our parents at five o'clock?" He stopped. There was a long silence. This was the first Christmas away from our parents. It hurt, not having our family happy around the Christmas tree, with the miniature stable with baby Jesus and the Virgin Mary and Joseph on the center of the kitchen table. I bit my lip. I didn't want to start crying. I hadn't really missed Mom and Dad this much since we had left. It was just…Christmas was supposed to be a time for family…

Slowly, the living room filled up with people. The rest of the X-Kids (still makes me shudder) came in about ten minutes after me and took over one of the sofas. Logan and Rogue meandered in soon after that and sat down against the wall opposite us. Storm came in behind them, and she stationed herself by the tree to oversee the present-opening with Professor Xavier.

The kids were almost done by the time Basil came in. He looked sleepy and grumpy, and he sat down against the doorframe, closing his eyes. The last person in was Scott, looking as lonely and lost as ever. He looked around, saw Storm and the Professor, and walked slowly over to them, trying to smile at the kids but failing miserably.

Now it was the older kids' turn to open their presents. To begin with, we were rather organized, picking up presents and handing them to each other. However, after a minute or so, we turned into little kids again, crawling around on our hands and knees and looking for our names on tags. Since we were bigger than the little kids, we kept knocking ornaments off the lower branches, so we had to keep stopping and picking them up.

"Thank you, Theresa," said Andrew. He had opened my gift – a pack of Tarot cards and a small book telling how to use them. "Heaven knows I need help reading the future." He smirked. That may have been the first time I saw him really display any emotion.

Lynette was surprised by my gift of a scented candle and a stress ball. "What an odd combination!" she said in her speedy way of talking. I had to have her repeat herself, because I couldn't understand her the first time she said it. She was bad enough on a normal day, but the excitement of Christmas had turned her into a complete lunatic.

Chris had gotten me a book called _Too Far Gone_. I read the back cover with fascination – it was about a guy who gets stuck in the future when a race of cat-like humanoids rules the planet.

"Thanks," I said to him. I loved reading about things like paradoxes and time travel. It was fun to try to get my brain around it.

"Likewise," he replied, studying my gift to him – a book about the history and science of flight.

"Hey, Basil!" Eve called, holding a thin package in her hand. "Catch!" She hurled it in the direction of the doorway.

Basil looked up just in time to catch the gift before it hit him in the face. He looked shocked for a moment, then he started opening his present.

"Nice aim," I commented to Eve.

"I played a lot of softball when I was little," she said by way of explanation. "Thanks, by the way." I had gotten her Bonsai tree kit. "I love gardening."

I smiled and then turned to watch Basil. I knew what was in the package, but I wanted to watch him open it, just to see the look on his face.

"Awww!" Clarise said, holding up a stuffed wolf. "That is so _cute_, Theresa. Thanks."

I smiled, still watching Basil. He seemed puzzled by the fact that somebody had gotten him something. He didn't know who'd gotten it for him, because there was no name on the "from" part of the tag. He hesitated for a moment and then ripped the paper off. He looked even more confused, then looked up. I looked away and pretended to be scanning for more presents, but I could feel his eyes on me. He must've guessed.

"Hey, what's this?" Eve said. She was pointing to a rather large box nestled against the tree trunk. It seemed to be…_moving_. "Scott, it's for you." She tried to lift it, but it nearly fell out of her hands, so she left it where it was.

Scott simply stared at the box for a moment, then he dropped down to his hands and knees and pulled it towards him. Now that I saw the box more closely, it seemed to have air holes. That indicated that whatever was in there was alive.

Professor Xavier was smiling slightly as he watched Scott pull the paper off to reveal the cardboard box underneath. It turned into a broad grin when Scott opened the lid and was pounced on by what looked like a ball of black and white fur.

We all started laughing. Even Scott was smiling. He picked the puppy off his shoulder, where it was licking his head, and set it down on the floor. It spun around and around, not knowing which person to focus on, barking a little shrill puppy-bark.

"What are you going to name her?" the Professor asked Scott, still smiling.

Scott closed his eyes for a moment. "Sophie," he decided at last.

Sophie looked quite happy with this, and jumped up on Scott again. She started licking his ear, and he started laughing.

That was the first time since I'd been at the mansion that I saw Scott happy. I guess little puppies work wonders.

* * *

"Sophie, you're gonna be spoiled rotten," Clarise declared, looking at the dog that was sitting beside her chair, looking up at her with big, brown eyes. Clarise took a little piece of chicken off her plate and dropped it down to the dog, who gobbled it up and continued staring up at her. "Now go away! I'm eating!"

Sophie didn't go away – she just curled up by Clarise's feet.

"She must know you're part of her family," Chris said, eyeing the dog.

Clarise rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Chris took a piece of broccoli off his plate and dropped it in front of Sophie, who gobbled it like a piranha.

"She's gonna be fat, too," I observed, taking a bit out of my slice of bread. "I don't think you're supposed to feed them people-food."

"Oh well," Clarise said, shrugging. She reached down underneath the table and scratched Sophie behind the ears.

The front door slammed. Sophie's ears perked up and she scrambled to her feet. Then she zoomed off, tail wagging crazily.

"Scott's back," I noted unnecessarily. After breakfast, Storm and Scott had gone out to Wal-Mart to get dog toys. The Professor had found some dog food that he claimed "mysteriously appeared." None of us believe that, though. We all know he went out and got it ahead of time.

Scott and Storm came into the kitchen, each carrying two bags. Sophie was jumping all over their legs and barking. Scott was smiling – not as broadly as he was this morning – but he was still smiling.

"Hey girl," he said, setting his bags on the table and scooping Sophie up.

Andrew looked up from his lunch. "You need to take her out," he said. "She has to go."

Scott hurriedly put the puppy back down. "Come on, girl. "Let's go out!" He shooed her in front of him down the hall and out the front door.

Chris grinned. "Nice save."

Andrew just shrugged and went back to eating.

* * *

That night I staggered up to my room at about twelve. I had been playing various board games and card games since seven, and I was exhausted. I was going to sleep until ten, at least.

I went to flop down on my bed, but I stopped. There was something lying on it. It looked like a card. I picked it up. It _was _a card. It was made out of what looked like green construction paper. I dimly remembered the younger kids making Christmas cards for each other a couple days ago. Confused, I opened it.

_Theresa,_

_Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Thanks._

I smiled and set it on my nightstand, then fell down onto the bed. There _was_ something nice under that terrible personality, after all.


	26. Good Day Gone Wrong

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. I never claimed to. I'm just borrowing. I'll stick with owning my OCs, thanks.

A/N: I'm back from the dead! Waaiit...does that mean my name is Summers? Okay, that was really bad. Worse than usual. Oh well. Anyway, I thank 4supernaturalgirl for getting me started on this chapter. It was half done, then kind of abandoned. Thanks to her persistence, though, I'm back on the story! Well, have fun with the chapter. And review. Don't forget to review.

**Chapter 26 – Good Day Gone Wrong**

I woke up at 5:15 on the morning of December 26th. I'd had trouble getting to sleep the night before, mainly because everyone in the mansion was running high on the spirit of Christmas. Since everyone else – especially the little kids – was so psyched, I turned into the living embodiment of the word "hyper." No telepath can possibly ignore one emotion from that large a group.

Once I woke up, I realized I was hungry. There'd been a big Christmas lunch the day before, and I'd decided I didn't need any supper, since I was still full. Now my decision was coming back to bite me in the butt.

I sighed and crawled out of bed. I grabbed my bathrobe from the hook on the door, then left the room and walked slowly down the hall. Not only had I not gotten nearly enough sleep, but I felt like I was coming down off my happy-high. I wasn't entirely miserable, but it did feel like the world didn't matter anymore.

I meandered into the kitchen, almost stopping to ask myself why I was there. I opened the fridge, looking for anything I felt like eating.

It took a minute for me to realize that someone was staring at me. They must've come in after me, because they weren't there before. "Yes?" I asked, continuing my search for food. "Do you need to get into the fridge?"

"Oh no," said a rather sarcastic voice. "I just like staring at your butt. It's such fine entertainment, you know."

I grabbed a bowl of noodles and walked over to the microwave. "Couldn't sleep?" I asked, putting the macaroni into the microwave.

Basil turned his head and looked at me. "No, I was sleeping fine, I just thought, 'Oh, why don't I wake up from this perfectly nice dream and go have something to eat?'" He reached into the fridge and pulled out a paper plate with two pieces of pizza on it. Then he closed the fridge and set the plate on the counter. "Of course I couldn't sleep."

I leaned on the counter beside the microwave. "Why couldn't you sleep?" I asked. After a short silence, I added, "Never mind."

He shrugged. "I was hungry. I can't sleep when I'm hungry." The microwave beeped, and I snatched my noodles out and sat down on a stool at the island. I got the feeling that he wasn't being entirely truthful, but he was in a good mood, and I didn't want to ruin this newfound rapport we seemed to be developing.

"While we're asking questions, why are _you_ awake?"

"I was hungry," I said simply.

Basil snorted. "That was _my_ false excuse. You can't steal it from me. You have to think up your own."

I grinned. "If that was your false excuse, then why are you eating something? You're not hungry."

He glared at me. "Shut up."

For a moment I considered trying to tick him off further, but I decided against it. We were having an almost normal conversation, and I didn't want to spoil it just yet.

The microwave beeped again, and Basil pulled out his pizza and sat down across from me. For a while neither of us said anything, and the only sounds were of us chewing.

"Why did you come here?" Basil asked suddenly.

I stared at him. "I told you – I was hungry! I wasn't lying like you were!"

He rolled his eyes. "Not to the kitchen, to the school!"

"Oh." I thought about that for a moment. "Well, I followed Chris. My parents were both part of CAMD, and I didn't want to get murdered or something." I paused. "Why are _you_ here?"

He shrugged. "My family thought it would be good for me." I could tell that there was much more behind that statement than he was revealing, but I didn't say anything. Whatever it was was _his_ business, not mine.

A few minutes went by before anyone spoke again. "I'm going outside," Basil announced. He jumped up, dumped his paper plate in the garbage, and practically sprinted out the kitchen door.

"What? It's ten below out there!" I called, running after him. I stopped in the hall and looked around. I couldn't see him. "Basil?" I called. I couldn't hear him, either. It was like he just…vanished.

I went back into the kitchen and put my empty bowl into the dishwasher. Then I went back up to my room and curled into a little ball under my blankets, even though I wasn't remotely tired.

After half an hour, I got up again. I just couldn't get to sleep. I grabbed my bathrobe again and slipped back downstairs. Then I went out the door into the garden. I wandered through the maze, then sat down on the edge of one of the paths. I'd forgotten that Storm kept the weather in the garden warm all year round.

I sighed, then leaned back and gazed up at the stars. They were so serene and happy up there. And they were…twinkling…

* * *

"Theresa, what the hell are you doing out here?"

It took me a minute to register that someone was talking to me. "Wha'?" I didn't remember where I was for a few moments. Last I had known, my mattress didn't feel like this. Neither did my blankets. I blinked a few times, and then I realized that I must've fallen asleep in the garden the night before.

"Hello?" Chris said insistently, waving one hand in front of my face. "Earth to Theresa!"

"I can hear ya!" I said grumpily, sitting up and brushing the little bits of grass out of my hair. "You don't think ya coulda given me a little time t'wake up before ya started doin' your 'Earth to Theresa' thing, do ya?"

He shrugged. "I could've, but I like annoying you." He offered a hand, and I grabbed it and pulled myself up. "It's almost time for breakfast," he informed me.

"Thanks," I said, stretching. "I'm not that hungry, but thanks."

Chris stared at me. "How can you _not_ be hungry?" he asked incredulously. "You didn't have supper yesterday!"

I yawned. "I had some pasta at five o'clock this morning."

He shook his head. "What _is_ it with people?" he muttered. "Can't anybody figure out what's breakfast food and what's not? First pizza, then macaroni!"

"It wasn't breakfast, it was a very, very late supper." I thought for a second. "Thinking of pizza, Basil was up, too."

Chris snorted. "And I suppose that the two of you had some truly sparkling conversation?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well, it was better conversation than you make with him," I shot back. "At least I made an effort. He's not all that bad to talk to, you know."

"If you say so," he said doubtfully. "Come on – Storm's makin' crepes."

My eyes widened. "Crepes!" I said, jumping up and down a bit. "Beat you there!" I ran off down the path, leaving Chris behind, shaking his head at me.

* * *

"Hey!" I shouted, wiping snow off my face with one hand. With the other, I hurled a snowball at Eve, who didn't duck fast enough and caught it on her shoulder. Before she could retaliate, I ducked down behind the low snow wall beside me.

As soon as I was under cover, Chris jumped up and pelted a snowball at Clarise, who grabbed it out of the air and threw it back at him. He only avoided getting a faceful of snow by covering himself with his wings.

After breakfast, as an after-Christmas treat, Storm had called up a snowstorm. When the snow was good and deep, she had lightened it up to a little flurry so we could all go out and have some fun. The snow was all that good thick kind, perfect for snowmen and snowball fights. It had all started off with one snowball, then it had…well…snowballed. Somehow we managed to get into a snowball _war_, with me and Chris against Eve, Clarise, and Lynette. Andrew elected not to play, as he would have an immensely unfair advantage.

"Brr…" Chris muttered, dripping down beside me and twitching his wings to get the snow out from between the feathers.

All of a sudden, a snowball whizzed above my head. I looked up over the wall just in time to see Clarise get a snowball straight to the chest. I ducked down again and looked at Chris, who was just as surprised as I was. "Who threw that?"

Just then, I felt someone else duck down next to me behind the wall. Much to my surprise, it was Basil, and he was actually _smiling_. "Mind if I join you?"

After I got over my initial shock, I shrugged. "The more the merrier." Chris glared at me, but I made a point of ignoring him. I jumped up, grabbed a snowball, and threw it at Eve, who was again too slow to dodge it.

Chris gave me another long look, then lobbed a snowball blindly over the wall. The high-pitched, fast-paced annoyed shouting informed us that he had hit Lynette, and apparently right in the head.

"Hey!" someone called. "Time for lunch, guys!"

Within seconds, the snowball fight had been abandoned and we started to race each other back to the mansion like the truly mature group of people that we were. As per usual, there was a massive pileup at the front door as everyone tried to squeeze through it at once. It didn't help that Chris's wings got caught on the doorframe and pinned against it by the crowd.

Then, once we were all inside, we had to deal with all the taking off of winter clothes. Most of the younger kids needed help, as did a few of the older ones – namely my brother, who somehow managed to get his wings thoroughly tangled in his coat. It took Andrew and me five minutes just to get him out of it.

After that feat was accomplished, we of the snowball fight had to go change our clothes. Our thoughts had been, "We're big kids – we don't need to wear ski pants. We won't sit in the snow like idiots." Ha. Right.

By the time we all got back down to the kitchen, Storm and Rogue were already dishing out beef stew. I ended up in line between Eve and Andrew. Eve was chatting animatedly with Chris, who was standing in front of her, and they appeared to be carrying on quite a conversation. The room was too noisy for me to hear what they were saying, though.

Basil was sitting alone in one corner of the room, avoiding the crowd, but still looking happy. Everyone was remarkably social today, it seemed like.

Once I got my food, I decided to go keep Basil company in his lonely corner. Chris glared at me when he saw where I was going, but I rolled my eyes and ignored him.

"Hi," I said, sitting down against the wall beside Basil. "How are you today."

For a second he contemplated me, trying to decide whether to be sarcastic or not. "Fine," he said, shrugging. "None the better for your asking," He didn't say it, though, with as much sarcasm and hostility as usual, though.

"Um…" I started, "What put you in such a good mood today?"

A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. "I'm starting to get better control, and I haven't gotten thrown since this morning. It's exciting."

I stared at him. "'Thrown?'" I asked in confusion.

"Oh." He was silent for a moment. "My powers don't always like me. They give me headaches and occasionally send me back in time."

I smiled. "Nice. I didn't realize you were a time traveler. That is so cool."

He shook his head. "Not really. At least, it's not when you can't control where you go. I remember my first day here. I got thrown back while I was walking down the hall, and," he started laughing, "the mansion used to have shag carpeting."

I couldn't help it. I cracked up. "Wow. Somehow I can't picture that."

"Charles said it was just what was in fashion at the time." He shuddered. "That doesn't change the fact that it was disturbing." He stopped and closed his eyes. "Shit," he muttered.

"What's wrong?"

He stood up and set his bowl of stew on the nearest table. "I need to get out of here."

I stood up too. "Why?"

"Nothing." He was rapidly assuming his old personality again. He pushed his way through the crowd to the door. Against my better judgment, I decided to follow him.

I only just managed to catch up with him in the hall. "Basil!" He didn't stop, so I grabbed his arm. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, and in that moment, everything around us shifted.

I was standing in exactly the same place, I could tell, but it didn't look remotely the same. Looking down at my feet, I saw…

"Basil?" I said hesitantly, "we just went back in time, didn't we?"

His only response was to look at the ceiling and close his eyes. "Yes. We did."

"There's shag carpeting," I noted.

"Yup." He sighed and looked back at me. "Now I have to get _both_ of us back to the right time. Great. This wasn't really the sort of situation I was hoping to test my powers in."

I stared at him. "You mean, you don't know if you can get us back?"

"Well, I can get ME back, I know that. If you hadn't grabbed my arm, everything would've been peachy, but no, you had to grab me and come with me, didn't you? My powers are shaky enough as it is without having to drag us _both_ back home!"

I decided to shut up after that.

Basil closed his eyes, grabbed my arm and, from the look of it, focused very intently on something. Then, within seconds, we were standing in the hallway we just left. As soon as he opened his eyes, he let go of my arm and stalked away towards the stairs. I considered going after him, but I decided not to. I didn't want to make him too mad.

I trooped back into the kitchen and grabbed my bowl of beef stew. Chris raised one eyebrow at me as I joined him and the rest of the X-Kids (still makes me gag!).

"More sparkling conversation?" he asked, voice positively dripping with sarcasm.

I chose not to reply to that. Basil's bad mood must've gotten to me. That's the problem with being a psychic. Things like moods can actually be contagious.


	27. New Year's Eve

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, and I don't own Basil Martin. The X-Men belong to Marvel, and Basil belongs to Jack.

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I've wanted to write a dance for a while now, and I finally got to. So enjoy. And review. I'm desperate for reviews right now. Make me happy, people! Review!

**Chapter 27 – New Year's Eve**

I only found out that there was going to be a New Year's party the day before it happened. It was only for the older kids – the younger kids were going to a movie with Scott, and Clarise and Daniel, who had kindly volunteered to skip the dance to chaperone the crowd of excited children. I was glad I didn't have to do it, that was for sure.

Since Clarise wasn't actually involved with the party, she passed on her responsibilities as leader to Eve. This meant that Eve was the one that rounded up volunteers to do the shopping. Lynette, Andrew and I were immediately drafted. Rogue happily volunteered to come, as she loved shopping. I considered going to get Basil, but before I could, Eve vanished. When she returned, she was followed by an unhappy Chris. Don't ask me _how_ she managed to convince him to come – my brother avoids shopping like the plague.

"Fancy seeing you here," I said to him as we all piled into a van. "Are you gonna go have some fun shopping?"

Chris glared at me. "Yeah. Fun, fun. Yay for shopping." He gave me a sarcastic thumbs-up. I laughed.

"Everybody buckled?" Rogue asked. When we all nodded, she stepped on the gas, and we were on our merry way to Wal-Mart.

* * *

That afternoon, I was lying on one of the Rec. Room couches, reading _Too Far Gone_. Shopping had been, to say the least, exhausting. It stopped short of being a traumatic experience, but not by much. By the time everything was done, Chris looked ready to murder anyone who dared to talk to him, Lynette was talking faster and more noisily than ever, and even Andrew was looking harried. People actually started looking at us oddly while we were getting to the checkout because Lynette was so loud.

After we got home, we all got away from each other as quickly as possible. We were all heartily sick of each other. And everyone else, for that matter. That was why I was downstairs in the Rec. Room, rather than in my room. A bunch of younger kids (and a few older ones) had started a loud game of either hide-and-seek or tag – I don't know which, and I didn't stay long enough to find out – all around the upstairs hallways, and they were being noisy about it. So I came down to the Rec. Room, where it was for once mercifully quiet.

I had been reading for about an hour when I heard someone come in. I looked up, hoping that it wouldn't be a little kid. It was Basil. I didn't know whether to be thankful or not. "Hi. Come down here for the peace and quiet?"

He nodded and sat down in the chair next to the couch, putting his feet up on the ottoman. "I got fed up with them when one came into my room and hid under my bed. They're probably taken the place over by now." He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

I snorted. "That sucks." I closed my book. "Feeling better today?"

He shrugged. "No worse than usual."

That sort of ended the conversation.

* * *

The next afternoon, I was hunting through my closet to find something I could wear to the dance when Basil came into my room.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I paused and looked back at him. "I'm looking for something to wear to the dance tonight."

He stuck his tongue out. "I hate dances." He sat down on my bed. "You probably don't want to work on UV Menace right now, then."

"I will in just a sec." I pulled out a pair of tan pants I didn't realize I had. "Now I just need a shirt." I set the pants on the end of my bed and dove back into the black hole known as my closet. I finally found a white dress shirt and tossed it with my pants on the bed. "There, I declared. "I'm done. We can work on UV Menace now if you want."

Basil rolled his eyes. "I don't _want_ to work on it – I just want to get it over with."

I sat down on the bed next to him. "What do we have to do?"

He shrugged. "Go down to the computer room, probably."

With that, we both stood up and left my room, bracing ourselves to work on schoolwork again.

* * *

"Come on, Basil, I don't want to be the only wallflower."

"No."

I crossed my arms. "It's not like you actually have to dance. I just don't want to be the only one that stands against the wall and bobs my head to the music."

Basil glared at me, though it wasn't nearly as hostile as some of the glares I'd seen before. "I hate dances."

"Please?"

He sighed. "If I say yes, will you quit bugging me?"

I nodded. He sighed again, then said, "Okay, if I must."

"Thank you."

He rolled his eyes at me. "You're not welcome." Then he stalked off to his room, leaving me alone in my room with the UV Menace project. I stared at it. How did _I_ get stuck planning out our movie, anyway?

* * *

That night, Chris and I met each other in the hall outside our rooms. We both looked at each other for a minute, then I groaned. "How did this happen?"

We were wearing almost the same outfit. Tan pants and long-sleeved white dress shirt.

Chris stared at me. "Are you gonna change?"

I snorted. "No. I don't care."

He nodded. "Alright then. Neither am I."

Basil wandered down the hall just then, probably looking for me. He stopped when he saw us. "You're weird," he said after a few moments of silence.

I shrugged. "We can't help it. It just…happened."

He shook his head. "Whatever. Let's go."

Chris looked at Basil, then glared at me. I pointedly ignored him and followed Basil down the stairs.

About five minutes after we got into the living room, which was lit mostly by Christmas lights, Lynette, Andrew and Eve came in. Eve must've been the one that convinced Chris to come, because he was following her. She looked at me, then at him. "Cute!" she said. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"God no!" we both said at the same time. She just laughed.

For the next few minutes, people kept filtering in. Then the music began.

* * *

An hour later, Basil and I were sitting on one of the sofas against the wall nearest the snack table. For lack of anything better to do, we were playing I Spy, which, however childish it may be, was enough of a challenge for us.

"I spy with my little eye, something…" Basil cast around, looking for something we hadn't spied yet. "…red."

"A Christmas light," I said immediately.

"Nope."

"Okay." I looked around a little harder. "That couch over there."

He shook his head. "I think we've already had the couch."

"Hmmm…" I looked around, trying to find something red that we hadn't already seen. "Rogue's shirt?"

"Yup."

"Alright. I spy with my little eye something…"

Before I could say my color, Eve and Chris came over to us. "Hi!" Eve said brightly. "I haven't seen you two dance yet!"

"And you never will," Basil muttered darkly. I laughed.

Eve crossed her arms over her chest. "You two have to dance tonight, you know."

I shook my head. "No we don't."

She sighed. "Do you want to switch dates, then?"

Chris and I stared at each other, then at Eve, as did Basil. "No!"

"Okay then – but you do have to dance at some point." She smiled at us. "I'll be watching." Then she drifted away, pulling Chris with her.

"I don't dance," Basil informed me.

"Don't worry. Neither do I."

"Good."

"Alright then. I spy something…blue."

Basil looked around. "A Christmas light?"

"Darn."

We were quiet for a few minutes, as neither of us had anything more we could spy without repeating. That was when the slow song came on. Before I could work out what to do, Eve had appeared again.

"Up," she commanded. "You two are going to dance."

"I don't dance," Basil said grumpily.

She crossed her arms. "Too bad. Up." She grabbed my arm and yanked me upright. Sighing, Basil stood up.

"There you go," she said happily. "Now dance." When we didn't do anything, she sighed. "I'm going to have to coach you, aren't I?" We didn't answer. "Fine. Theresa, put your hands on his shoulders." When I didn't obey, she gave me a death glare to rival one of Chris's. "Now Basil, put your hands on her waist."

He stared at her like she was crazy. "No way."

Eve glared at him. "Just do it."

Grumbling, Basil put his hands on my waist.

Eve smiled and nodded. "Okay. Now just dance."

We both stared at her blankly again.

She shook her head. "Just watch what everyone else is doing." She turned to walk away, but she stopped. "And if you don't dance now, I'll make you do it again."

We looked at each other. "Let's get this over with," I advised.

"I am _never_ coming to a dance again," Basil muttered.

Then, despite all our misgivings, we started dancing.

The song was about halfway done when Rogue and Bobby walked by us. "Aww," Rogue said. "You two make a cute couple."

She realized that she said something wrong when Basil and I both gave her our most severe death glares. Then she walked off with Bobby, grinning broadly.

"Mark my words, I am never, _ever_ doing something like this again!" Basil said after she was gone. "If I could, I'd go back to the shag carpeting right now."

I shrugged. "Well, it could be worse."

He stared at me. "How?"

"We could mess up and have to do this all over again."

Basil grimaced. "Good point." The last notes of the song faded away, and we jumped apart. "Thank God," he muttered.

Eve came drifting up to us again, with Chris behind her again. "You didn't look like you were having much fun," she observed.

"No duh, Sherlock," Basil muttered.

"Believe me, we wouldn't have any more fun doing it again," I said quickly.

She seemed to consider that for a moment. "Alright. But you could've done better."

We both shook our heads. "No," I said, "we couldn't have."

She just laughed and went back out onto the dance floor.


	28. Dear Diary III

Disciaimer: I own only what I created.

A/N: Sorry about how short this chapter is. I'm running out of ideas. I still have a few more points that I have to get to, I'm just trying to stall before I get to them, so any ideas are welcome. Thanks to my wonderful beta Jack (aka gaelicdragon) for reading this over for me.

I've noticed that a lot of people think I have some strange dislike of teachers. I don't. Teachers are wonderful people. I've just had ones that I don't like. Those were the basis for characters like Mrs. Nenna and Mr. White. And when I was a Freshman (last year), I had to do the Culture Project and UV Menace (along with a few others that I _won't_ make my poor suffering characters do), and I have a right to hate those and have a special place in my soul to hate the teachers who gave them to me (you would too, if you'd done them!). But teachers? Wonderful, lovely people.

**Chapter 28 – Dear Diary III**

_Sunday, January 1__st_

_I haven't exactly been having the best day. Basil has been avoiding me. After last night, though, I can't say I blame him. I can't blame myself for avoiding Eve, either. No offense, but she's just too normal (aka boy-crazy) a teenage girl for me to really get along with anyway. I'll stick to hanging out with people like Andrew and Basil and Chris, all of whom are just as strange as I am, and won't try to get me to act like a normal (again, _boy-crazy_) teenage girl._

_On a completely unrelated note, I've made a few New Year's Resolutions. I'll write them down here so I don't forget them._

_1) Don't procrastinate! (I say this every year, but somehow it never gets done. I'll do it tomorrow.)_

_2) Be more social. Now that I'm somewhere new where people don't know me, I might be able to make some friends, and maybe (gasp!) fit in. I'm not gonna try for being cool, but fitting in's a good goal._

_3) Learn to do something new and exciting! (I say _this_ every year too. The only difference is that I actually _accomplish_ this one every once in a while.)_

_That's all I've got. I'm not ambitious like other people. Out of these, I'll probably only get one done, and I can _guarantee_ that it will _not_ be number one! I think that one's my obligatory resolution to try to make myself a better person. I'll stick with that, rather than switch to, "Lose 5 pounds" or "Exercise daily" or something stupid like that. Nobody accomplishes things like that anyway! _Nobody!

_On another complete tangent, I want to know what the heck is going on with Chris and Eve. I've _never_ seen him get dragged around by a girl willingly before. Although, that could be because girls (and everyone else) tended to avoid him and he never got a chance to follow one around… But still. Something's going on there, and I want to know. (Yeah, I want to know all the juicy details of everyone else's lives – mutancy hasn't erased THAT bit of human psychology.)_

_Well, I'm going to try and find someone to talk to that's not part of the whole avoidance thing._

* * *

_Tuesday, January 3__rd_

_Good news: Basil has stopped avoiding me, which means I have somebody to talk to, because Chris is kinda ticked at me right now._

_Bad news: School's started again. Bleh. Homework. Need I say more?_

_I asked Chris about Eve earlier. God, you should've _seen_ the death glare he gave me. It looked like he was trying to make me burst into flames or something. I've known him for long enough that those things don't bother me. Actually, to me, it was really quite funny. It was even funnier that his face got as red as a tomato. That was rather rewarding. Much as I love him, it's loads of fun to annoy him. He's just so easy to annoy._

_I'm now in a mad rush to finish the dreaded Culture Project. I'm currently right in the middle of a book called _The Thief and the Dogs_, which is an _incredibly_ boring read, but is the only book they have in the library that was written by an Egyptian author. I really feel like banging my head on the wall right now. But I can't – I still have 80 pages to read! Argh! And I only have a week and a half left, and I still haven't started my travel journal or my budget and - Alright. Take a deep breath. You will finish this project, Theresa. You will._

_I'm so glad that UV Menace isn't due for another month and a half. I'm so, _so_ glad. That, and I have a partner, which takes some of the workload off me. And now that my partner is starting to be less of a grumpy idiot, we're actually getting some things done. Yay for cooperation!_

_Well, I should probably get going and read the last 80 pages (yech!) of my book._

* * *

_Saturday, January 7__th_

_I hate school right now. I really, _really_ hate school. My teachers are evil. I have been so swamped with homework in the last week… It's crazy. Actually, all my teachers are decent people, they just have an unhealthy obsession with loading all their students down with obscene amounts of homework._

_Well, it's the weekend. Not that I can stop working. I have a bunch of math homework, the Culture Project (I think I'm gonna have to start calling it the Spawn of Satan, because it's _that_ bad), and UV Menace to work on. Oh, and I have a paper to write about my family to write for Spanish. And I haven't started yet. Fun, fun. I should really learn not to procrastinate. Like I said, I'll start tomorrow. First thing tomorrow._

_Basil's being kinda crabby right now. I think he must be having some power problems. He's especially pissy lately. More especially pissy than usual, I mean. I'm glad I don't have the headache he must have. Although, if I had it, I bet I'd be pissier than he is._

_Well, I'd better get started on the dreaded homework. Still have 15 pages in _The Thief and the Dogs_. The sooner I finish it and write the report, the happier I'll be._


	29. Free to Be

Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Marvel, and Basil Martin belongs to my good friend Jack. Chris, Theresa, Eve, Andrew, Gina, Andrew, and all the other random characters that don't come from the movie belong to me.

A/N: Sorry that this chapter's so short. It was written between midnight and 1 o'clock, and I don't think clearly after 11:30 at night. But anyway, enjoy and please _review_.

**Chapter 29 – Free to Be**

That Monday, Basil and I started working on our video for UV Menace. I managed to shanghai a girl from my Spanish class by the name of Gina Turner into running the camcorder. I didn't tell her that the higher powers were smiling down on her to be around Basil on one of his good days.

Overall, the filming wasn't going all too well. Basil kept forgetting what he was supposed to say, and I had been struck with a sudden outburst of clumsiness and kept tripping over various unobtrusive objects (namely my own feet, and sometimes Basil's) and dropping things.

After an hour and a half of working, we finally just gave up and crowded around the camera to see how stupid we looked. Basil, as he was in an unusually good mood (I'm thinking that his lack of a friend before may have contributed a great deal to his antisociability), was having great fun watching me mess up.

"Oh, shut up!" I yelled at him after the fourth episode of his point-and-laugh syndrome. "At least I didn't say that there was an ozone _hill_ above Antarctica." Unfortunately for me, this comment only encouraged him to point out even more of my mess-ups.

We were near the end of the tape when Gina said, "Theresa, have you ever thought of cutting your hair?"

That sort of caught me off guard. Like a typical self-absorbed female, I immediately assumed the worst. "Why, does it look bad or something?"

She shook her head. "No, I just thought that it would look good on you."

After we were done, I studied one a lock of my long black hair. Mom and Dad had never wanted me to cut it. I guess Mom thought it would look "unladylike" to cut it short, or something to that effect.

But then, my hair had always been sort of annoying. It was a devil to wash, and on windy days it tended to blow across my eyes. I had neither the time nor the energy to style it or anything of the sort. Maybe it was time for a change.

Later on, at supper, I found Gina, who was sitting with a couple of friends. "Hi Gina."

She smiled. "Hi Theresa. What's up?"

I sat down. "Remember what you said earlier about my hair?" She nodded. I continued. "I think I like the idea."

She grinned happily. "When are you gonna cut it."

I shrugged. "I don't know where to get it cut. I want to do it soon, though, before I chicken out."

The girl sitting next to Gina looked at me shyly. "My mom taught me how to do haircuts. I could cut it for you."

"Cool," I said smiling. "Could you cut mine sometime?"

"Sure," she said amiably. "I could do it tonight if you want."

I shrugged. "That sounds good to me."

Half an hour later I was sitting in a tall wooden chair in front of a large mirror in the girls' bathroom.

Andrea had warned me that she couldn't do anything "fancy," whatever that meant. She seemed quite pleased when I told her that I really didn't care , as I wasn't the fancy type.

"How short do you want it?" she asked, holding a lock of hair away from my head with two fingers. In her other hand she held a pair of scissors.

"Um…short."

She smiled. "This short?" she asked, touching my hair with the scissors at a point about half an inch from my scalp.

I laughed. "Not quite that short."

"Okay." She adjusted her scissors so that they were at a point much less threatening. "This short?"

I let out a deep breath. "That looks good to me."

She looked at me in the mirror. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked.

I nodded. "I need a change."

"Okay," Andrea said. She put the scissors on the edge of the sink and picked up a hair elastic. Far quicker than I could have done it, she had tied my hair into a ponytail. Then she picked up the scissors again.

"You're absolutely sure?"

I nodded again.

_Snip._

Andrea handed me my severed ponytail. "Congratulations," she said cheerfully. "Your hair is gonna look so good…" She smiled to herself and started snipping away at what was left of my hair.

I stared at my ponytail for a minute. Then I smiled. Who cared what my mother would think?

In that moment, I realized how free I truly was.

Breakfast the morning after my little trim was certainly amusing.

There were only four people in the kitchen when I got there – Andrew, Chris, Eve, and Basil. I was getting some cereal out of the cupboard when Chris looked up and noticed something was off. "Theresa…?"

I turned around and looked at him. "Yes?"

It took him a few moments to put his finger on what was different. Then it hit him. _"What did you do to your hair?"_

This caused Eve and Basil to look up. "I love it!" Eve exclaimed in a matter of seconds. "You look so good with short hair!"

Basil's thoughts were much less encouraging. "You look like you got on the wrong side of a man with a machete."

I decided to take Chris's continued dumbstruck, open-mouthed staring as a good sigh. Although, I hadn't ever seen him speechless before – at least that I could remember. It was rather amusing to watch.

I was right. I _did_ need a change.


	30. Intimidation Tactics

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. Marvel does. End of story.

A/N: I realized as I was writing this that there's probably about 5 chapters left to this story, if that. Most likely 3 or 4. And thanks to ... for giving me the idea for this chapter. Don't worry, Danny, I've tried to address some of what you said to me after you gave me this idea. And sorry that this is a short(er) chapter. I'm running out of stalling ideas. The next chapter should be lots better.

**Chapter 30 – Intimidation Tactics**

It was 4:30 in the morning when I woke up to Clarise barreling into my room. She was completely out of breath. "Get up!" she gasped. "Takeoff's in ten minutes!" Then she dashed off.

It took a minute for my sleep-muddled mind to process what she just said. I somehow connected "takeoff" to "Blackbird," and then got from "Blackbird" to "mission." I didn't even bother wondering why we would be going on a mission – I just crawled out of bed and tried to make decent time down to the basement levels to change.

I was the third person ready. Clarise had been ready long before me, and was waiting impatiently when I got to the jet. Andrew was there too, as calm as ever. A few seconds after I showed up, Lynette came staggering in, with Eve right behind her.

"Everybody in," Clarise said, and we all piled up the ramp. Then, before we knew it, we were off the ground and soaring off towards some distant destination. While we were _en route_, Clarise briefed us on our mission.

"Okay. This isn't going to be terribly hard." Lynette groaned – she'd probably heard that before. "We're going to a small town in Washington. There's a tiny force of renegade mutants out there that the Professor wants us to deal with. Professor Xavier said not to try to kill them unless they're a real threat – we just want to scare them enough so that they'll disband."

I looked at her inquisitively. "Um…just out of curiosity, why aren't the actual X-Men going on this mission?"

"This is a really minor mission," Clarise explained. "We don't need as much firepower as the X-Men have, and the Professor said this mission would be good real-world practice for us." She grinned. "Plus, the X-Men like having a day off where they don't have to get up at four o'clock in the morning."

Then, before we knew it, we were setting down in a field of some sort. We could see the lights of a town up ahead, and hear some sort of commotion.

"Why did we have to land so far away?" Lynette complained.

Clarise shook her head. "It's so no one sees us," she answered quietly, but with enough force to show that she was rather exasperated by her teammate. "Now be quiet, Zappy."

A few minutes later, we were hiding behind a house, craning our necks around to try and see what was happening. From what I could see, there were about five mutants in what must've passed for Main Street in Hickville (I'm not exaggerating – this town was even tinier than where I lived before I went to the mansion, and my town was pretty small). It didn't look all that bad – they seemed to just be holding up the traffic (all of three cars) and one of them was spouting some water out of his hands, but that was it. They might as well have been a band of teenagers with watering cans for all the damage they were actually doing. I could tell that one look at Clarise in wolf form would cure them of any desire to cause trouble in the future.

"Ready?" Clarise asked. We all nodded. "Let's go." She stepped out from the side of the house and started towards the mutants, changing form as she did. The rest of us followed behind her.

It took a few seconds for the crowd to notice us. When they did, they didn't know quite what to make of us. I mean, we were all wearing ridiculous-looking clothes, and Clarise was in full wolf form now. Everyone was just kind of staring at us. Then one of the mutants made a move – the water one. Before we knew it, a huge wave of water had crashed on top of us. I lost my balance and went down, but got right back up again. Clarise was already back on her feet, racing towards him. When he saw her, his courage abandoned him and he sprinted off, with Clarise on his tail.

With the loss of one of their number, the remaining mutants didn't look quite so confident. I couldn't tell what their powers were, and truth be told, I didn't really want to find out.

Luckily, I didn't have to. Clarise reappeared and nodded her head at Lynette, who held up one hand and sent a weak bolt of electricity at the group. It couldn't have done more than your average static, but it sent them running for the hills. Clarise trotted back to us, returning to her normal form as she did. "Good job," she said.

We were turning around to head back to the Blackbird when Andrew turned and pointed. He didn't say anything, but we all saw what was wrong. There was a crowd of people coming up the street. Some of them were armed and some of them weren't, but whether they had guns or not, they looked like they meant business.

"Retreat!" she hissed. We immediately started running back towards the jet, hoping against hope that we wouldn't be shot at.

Our hopes didn't hold. We were only halfway there when Andrew grabbed me and Lynette by the arms and pushed us down. A gunshot cracked over our heads, then we were running again. Eve slowed down until she was bringing up the rear, with Andrew right beside her. I heard more gunshots, but I didn't stop running. We were all relieved when we scrambled up the ramp into the Blackbird, shut the door, and were soaring away.

It was only after all this happened that I realized I was shaking. Lynette's eyes were as wide as saucers, Eve had her knees pulled up to her chest, Clarise's knuckles were white from her grip on the control wheel. Andrew was the only one that looked at all normal, and even he seemed a bit shaken. And nobody liked seeing Andrew shaken.

* * *

When we got back, we made a bee-line to Professor Xavier's office. When we were done telling him what happened, he sighed.

"I can only deduce that the group that shot at you belonged to CAMD." He closed his eyes. "Thank you for the report."

With that, we all got up and left. There was nothing more to say.


	31. What is Life, if Not Love?

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, and I don't own Basil Martin. Can't make it any plainer than that.

A/N: I've been waiting to write this chapter since very early on in the story. This signals the start of the end of the story. Three chapters left now. Savor this one. It's probably the best one I've got, aside from my ending.

I forgot last chapter to thank Kyle (Deadeyescream) for my idea. She gave me the initial idea, then Danny gave more specifics. So thanks to both of them.

**Chapter 31 – What is Life, if Not Love?**

It was dawn. I was standing next to a window, looking out at the sunrise. I was unbearably sad, but I knew that what I was about to do was going to make life better for everyone I loved. I glanced back at my bed. There was a piece of paper on it.

I sighed. Then I picked up the paper and looked at it. I already knew exactly what it said. I just had one last thing left to write. I picked up the note, then took a pen off my nightstand. I only needed to write a bit more.

_I'm sorry. I love you._

_Sincerely,_

_Willow Erickson_

Then I dropped the note back on the bed and left the room. It was time to go.

* * *

I was barely awake before I was shooting out of bed and the door. I had to stop this from happening. I had to get there before I was too late. I had to.

I was careening down the hall when I ran slap-bang into Basil. I could only guess that he was coming up from getting an early-morning snack after a time throw. I actually knocked him over. But I couldn't stop. I had to hurry. There was no time.

"Hey!" he called after me. "Where the hell are you going?" He started running after me, but I didn't care. I had to see the Professor. Damn mental shields, they make things so friggin' hard!

"Professor!" I yelled, banging on the door of his office. "Professor!" I didn't even know if he was in there.

"Theresa!" Basil panted, coming up behind me. "Everybody's asleep! He's not in there!"

I put my back to the door and muttered a string of curses that made Basil raise his eyebrows. "Come on!" I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him off down the hall towards the elevator.

"Where the hell are we going?"

I didn't answer until we were in the elevator. "We're going to the Blackbird."

Now it was his turn to swear. "Why the hell would you hijack the Blackbird?"

The elevator doors opened and I sprinted out. "Because I have to save my best friend's life!" I pulled him down the hall, and raced up the ramp into the Blackbird.

"Do you even know how to fly this thing?" Basil gasped, flopping down into the co-pilot seat.

I shrugged and sat down in the pilot's seat. "Clarise was teaching me. She taught all of us, just in case." I flipped the ignition switch, and the jet roared to life. "Up we go," I muttered. I grabbed the control wheel and pushed it down. The jet responded, rising into the air, the ceiling opening to let it out. Then we were soaring away across the sky.

Basil looked a little more at ease now that he had seen I knew how to pilot the jet, but he still looked uneasy at the speed I was sustaining, however. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"A little town in northern Maine. Where I used to live. My best friend's about to commit suicide, and I've gotta save her."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Damn church and its demon bullshit," I muttered. He just nodded again, and I assumed that he'd understood that I meant Willow was killing herself because she was a mutant.

I was going so fast, it only took us ten minutes to reach my hometown. I landed as close to town as I could, then lowered the ramp and raced down as fast as I could. Basil piled out behind me, then we both looked around. I shook my head and looked up at the sky, which was now lightening to blue. "It's too late," I said quietly.

Basil grabbed my arm. "I can buy you some time!" he said. He closed his eyes, and his face assumed a look of intense concentration. Then, all of a sudden, the sky was pink again.

"Thank you!" I hugged Basil happily. He looked rather taken aback, but he followed me as I sprinted off towards Willow's house.

I was about to knock on her front door when Basil grabbed my hand and pulled me back around the side of the house. "No paradoxes!" he hissed. I took a deep breath and nodded, then settled down to wait.

A minute later, Willow slipped out the front door and started off down the street, her head hanging.

"Come on," I whispered. I pulled him along behind me as I shadowed her down the street. I knew where she was going. There was a bridge on one of the edge of town. It was winter, but the water wouldn't be frozen. It was too fast. And too deep. She was going to jump.

I was right. When she reached the bridge, she stood on the edge and looked over the safety rail. It broke my heart to see her about to kill herself. I could feel tears in my eyes.

"Willow!" I called. Startled, she turned and looked back. I stepped out into view, belatedly realizing that I was still holding Basil's hand. He didn't seem to mind, though, and I needed all the support I could get.

"Theresa?" Willow called, her voice cracking. "I never thought I'd see you again."

I walked down the bridge towards her. "Don't do this, Willow."

Now that I could see her clearly, I could tell that she was crying. "I have to. I'm a demon. I can't be this. There's nothing else I can do." She turned back to the railing.

"No!" I yelled. "Don't!" I released Basil's hand and raced towards her. She was about to climb over the railing when I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back.

I expected that she would try to fight, but she didn't. She just collapsed onto me and started sobbing her heart out on my shoulder.

"It's okay," I murmured, stroking her hair. "It's okay. I'm gonna take you somewhere safe. It's gonna be okay. Let's get you out of here."

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and supported her as I started walking back towards the Blackbird. Basil followed behind us, clearly not quite sure what to do other than be quietly supportive.

I was about to walk into sight of the Blackbird when Basil grabbed my arm. "Let me check first," he said quietly. He peeked around the last house of the street. It was a minute before he nodded his head. "We're gone. Let's go."

I led Willow to the jet and up the ramp, then settled her into the co-pilot seat. Basil didn't even look at me strangely. He just stood behind me as I flipped the ignition and launched the Blackbird.

The trip home wasn't nearly as rushed as the trip out. Willow had stopped crying and was staring out the window, looking completely lost. I felt so bad for her.

When I set down in the hangar bay, I could see the Professor waiting at the door. I swallowed. "Uh-oh," I muttered. Still, I reached out to help Willow up and carefully led her down the ramp.

Storm was there, as well as the Professor. "Let's get her to the infirmary," she said as soon as she saw me. I nodded and walked a little faster. Basil and Professor Xavier followed us into the infirmary and watched as we settled Willow onto a bed. Storm nodded to me. "I've got her now," she told me.

I sighed and relaxed my shoulders. "Alright." I turned and looked at the professor. "I'm sorry, sir."

He smiled slightly. "It is quite alright, Theresa. I understand why you did what you did. Although please note that in the future I would appreciate that it not happen again."

I let out the breath I had been holding and smiled with relief. "Thank you." I slipped past him out of the room, with Basil right behind me.

I was up in my room before I realized I was trembling. I sat down and put my head in my hands. I felt a weight on the end of my bed and realized that Basil must've sat down there.

"Thank you," I said after a few moments.

"You're welcome." And that was it. There was nothing left to say but that.


	32. Premonition

Disclaimer: I don't have any money. Marvel, trust me - I'm not worth suing.

A/N: Wow. I'm getting so close to the end. Two chapters left after this. Well, technically only one, because the ending is the next chapter, then I have an epilogue. I've been waiting to write these since I started this story. Anyway, sorry for the short, uninteresting chapter. It was very hard to write. I'm okay with it, though. I'll make up for it in the chapter next time - I promise.

**Chapter 32 – Premonition**

It was a couple days before Willow was sufficiently settled and ready to move into a room. It had taken quite some time to convince her that she wasn't a demon. That was helped along by the fact that I was a mutant, and she wasn't quite ready to believe that I was a demon, because she'd known me her whole life, and she was quite certain she would've known something like that about me. Which was perfectly true.

Once she was clear about the distinction between mutants and demons, she started doing much better. She was still stressed out, but she was definitely doing better. Storm released her on Friday, and I was given the day off school to get her settled into her room and show her around the mansion.

"So what do you think?" I sat down on her bed and looked around the room. It was the same sort of setup that I had found when I got my room – pretty bland and impersonal.

Willow sat down beside me. "I like it," she said. "I can see why you like it here."

I stood back up. "Do you want me to show you around right now, or do you want to get settled in?"

She shrugged. "I'd like you to show me around. It's not like – " She paused, then composed herself. "It's not like I have anything to put away or anything."

"Okay." I opened the door for her, then followed her out into the hall, then led her down the stairs to the ground floor. I pointed to a door on the right. "This is the Rec. Room. It's usually pretty noisy, but since everybody's in class, it's empty." I walked off down the hall, towards the kitchen, and Willow followed behind me. "This," I announced, "is the kitchen. I end up in here a lot with a bowl of ice cream when I can't sleep. Never expect to have privacy in the kitchen – there's almost always somebody down here."

I heard a stomping noise out in the hall. "And we want to leave this room now, before it's physically impossible."

She looked at me questioningly. I ignored her and pulled her out of the room, just in time to avoid the huge wave of people that started pouring through the door. "It's lunchtime," I explained. "If you don't mind, I'd rather we ate after they were gone."

"I don't mind," Willow said, shrugging. "I'm not hungry yet."

"Do you want to see the garden?" I asked.

She stared at me. "It's January. How can there be a garden?"

I had forgotten that she was new to the place. "Storm keeps it warm," I explained.

"Oh."

I led her down the hall and out the side door into the garden.

She looked around. "Wow…"

I grinned. "It's a maze. Shaped like a flower. I had fun finding that out." I made a face. "It wasn't worth hurting my wrist to see."

"How did you get up far enough to see?" she asked.

I shook my head and started walking towards the center of the garden. "It's a long story. I was…testing out my powers and seeing if I could get as high as Chris."

"Ah." She walked out ahead of me and sat down on one of the benches that ringed the center of the garden. "It's beautiful here."

"It is," I agreed. "It's a good place to sit and think." I sat down beside her and looked up at the clouds. "I find Basil out here sometimes."

"Basil?"

"He's my friend. His powers give him headaches, and he comes out here a lot to relax. If I follow him he usually snaps at me to go away, but I usually ignore that."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "Why do you follow him out here if he doesn't want you to?"

I shrugged. "Because even though he'll never say so, he needs a friend. I know." I tapped my head with one finger. "I'm a psychic. I can tell." In truth, I had never actually read his mind. But I didn't need to – I could tell he needed a friend without my psychic capabilities.

Willow smiled. "He's lucky to have a friend like you. I know I am."

"I'm glad you think so."

* * *

"Hey Theresa," Eve said, lounging on the Rec. Room couch. She nodded at Willow. "Are you Willow?"

Willow looked rather taken aback that Eve knew who she was. "How do you know me?"

Eve grinned. "We've all heard about Theresa and Basil hi-jacking the Blackbird, and you were part of that story, of course. You're the only new face around here, and you're with Theresa, so it's pretty safe to assume that you're Willow." She held out her hand. "I'm Eve. Nice to meet you."

Hesitantly, Willow shook her hand. Her eyes drifted to Chris, who was sprawled next to Eve on the couch with one arm around her shoulders. She seemed surprised to see him, but she didn't say anything. Neither did Chris, who responded with his customary glare. I thought he might be a little nicer to somebody who just recently tried to commit suicide, but he never had liked her that much, so I guess I didn't really expect too much.

I spotted Lynette and Andrew over in another corner. "Come on," I said to Willow, grabbing her arm and leading her over to them. "Willow, I'd like you to meet Andrew and Lynette. Guys, this is my friend Willow."

I didn't know why I was introducing her to everyone I knew. I suppose I could call it a premonition.


	33. The Whisper of an Angel's Wings

**Chapter 33 – The Whisper of an Angel's Wings**

On Sunday morning, it almost felt like it had before Willow had come back, because she had chosen to go to church with Kurt. That just left the usual Sunday morning crew of Chris, Eve, Lynette, and me. And Basil of course, although he wasn't social to come out and hang out in the Rec. Room. Today, however, he had elected to be friendly and come sit on the couches with us. He and Chris kept shooting glares at each other, but I ignored them. They would get over their immaturity eventually.

"Theresa, I have a question for you."

I looked away from the television and focused on Eve. "Ask away."

She grinned. "How did Basil know that you were up at 5:30 in the morning?"

Basil and I both stared at her. I felt like we were missing something. "What do you mean, how did I know she was up?" Basil asked.

"Well," she said slowly, as if pointing out the very obvious, "people don't generally tend to make it a practice to be wandering around the halls early in the morning, you know. You said that you just ran into him, but there's a rumor that that's not what actually happened."

It took a minute for me to figure out what she meant. When I figured it out, my mouth dropped open. "Okay, Eve, you are crazy." I couldn't think of anything more to say. I was completely dumbstruck. How could somebody even _think_ something like that?

Basil was still looking at her strangely. He didn't get it. Lucky him. Everyone else had gotten it, though – either that or they'd heard the rumor. Chris was trying to burn a hole through Basil with his eyes.

"Um…" Basil whispered to me. "What just happened?"

I shook my head. "You don't want to understand. Trust me," I whispered back.

"Yeah, I do."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "She means that people think we slept together."

It was almost worth the insult to watch Basil splutter and turn a deepening shade of red. He seemed unable to put together a coherent sentence. Eve started laughing. And I couldn't help it – I cracked up, too. The expression on his face and his stammering and stuttering were too funny. Within seconds, we were all laughing. Scarlet with rage, Basil jumped up off the couch and stalked off.

After he left, Eve grinned at me. "Seriously, when are you gonna call yourselves a couple?"

I just looked at her and shook my head. "Never, until the day I die." Then I stood up. "This is too sketchy for me," I said shortly. "I'm going." With that, I turned and walked out the way Basil had gone.

I found him out in the garden, sitting right beside the door. I walked around and sat beside him. "That," I said slowly, "had to be the _stupidest_ suggestion I have ever heard in my life."

He nodded. "I'm getting a headache now."

"I'm sorry." There was a moment of silence. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I just like being alone when I get them. I'll find you when I feel better."

I stood up and brushed myself off. "Alright. See you later." I walked back around him and back into the house.

"So, did you ask him out?" Eve asked me as soon as I came into view.

I flopped back down on the couch and rolled my eyes at her. "Eve, do I _look_ like I'm dead yet?"

Chris was about to fire off some comment about how if I did something-or-other I would look dead, but he stopped. We all did. Nobody moved. We were all looking at Andrew. He was shaking uncontrollably, and his eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Andrew?" Eve asked quietly. "What's wrong?"

All of a sudden, he snapped out of whatever private horror he was experiencing. "We have to get everyone out!" he said.

"What?" I asked, bewildered and scared. I was scared because Andrew was scared.

Andrew was _never_ scared. _Ever._

He leveled his gaze at me. "Because in ten minutes, this school is going to be on fire."

Eve leaped up. "Come on! Chris, Theresa, you get the little kids! Andrew, run and tell the Professor! Lynette, come with me, we have to wake up all the people that are still sleeping! Shit! Why did this have to happen on a day when the X-Men were out on a mission?" She dashed out of the room, Lynette and Andrew on her heels.

I jumped up and grabbed Chris's arm. "Come on, let's go!" I sprinted out the door. Chris, for once, didn't question what he was told to do and raced after me.

All the little kids shared the same wing. Most of them spent the morning either there or at church. Chris and I ran down the hall, banging on doors and screaming at the top of our lungs. It didn't take much to get the kids to fall into a group behind us. When all the doors on the hall were opened and the rooms were empty, we led them down the front stairs to where we were going to meet everyone else.

As the first one down, I flung the front door open and looked out. As soon as I did, I jerked my head back and slammed the door shut. "They're out there!" I gasped.

Eve came up behind us. "What?"

"They're out there!" I repeated. "There's a whole crowd of them, with torches! We need a safe exit!"

Eve turned around and addressed the still-growing crowd. Andrew and the Professor were near the back, having just come from the Professor's office. "We have to get out the secret passage!" Eve called. "Come on!" She turned and ran down the hall, and everybody else turned and followed her. We went halfway down the hall, then she called us to a stop. "Little kids first!" she called. "Lynette, Theresa, you go with them!" As she said this, Andrew and the Professor passed her, going to the elevator. I assumed they were going to the basement to fly the Blackbird out.

I looked back at the gaggle of youngsters behind me. "Come on!" I said. "Let's go." I led the way to Eve, who had pushed aside a wall panel to reveal a secret passage. I ducked inside first, followed by a little boy – the same little boy who had burst into my room to wake me up on Christmas day. He was followed by a scared gaggle of little kids. Finally, Lynette dropped in behind them. She gave me the thumbs up, and I led the way down the passage.

It felt like it took forever to reach the right exit. I climbed the ladder first, then knelt and helped the kids up one by one. My heart was in my mouth. I didn't want to think about what would happen if we didn't get them out in time. It was a relief when Lynette climbed up. "That's the last one." I didn't have any trouble understanding her now. I was thinking as fast as she was talking. "We need to get away."

I nodded and checked to make sure that the kids were still grouped and with us. "Come on!" I called, then started jogging away through the forest. I knew that behind me, the older kids were climbing up and following us.

I didn't realize that the building behind us was on fire until I heard someone near the back of the crowd scream. Startled, I looked back. At first I couldn't see anything – just trees. Then I could make out tongues of flame in the spaces between the branches. Then I turned around and kept running. There was nothing any of us could do.

After a minute or so, I stopped. We were probably far enough away to be protected from the fire. The forest was wet after a recent snowstorm, and it wouldn't burn well.

Just as a check, I reached out with my telepathy towards the burning building. I had to make sure that there was no one left inside. I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when I felt someone. I didn't recognize them on feel, but that didn't matter. I didn't have time to figure out exactly who they were. All that mattered was that if I didn't get to them, they were going to die. I couldn't let _anyone_ burn inside that cursed building.

"Stay here!" I yelled to the little kids. Then I raced away, back down the line. I passed Lynette and gestured for her to get up to the front and watch the little ones. Then I was running again, down the line, until there were no more people left. I practically flew the last ten feet to the ladder and didn't bother climbing down – I just jumped. Then I dashed off down the tunnel. I had to beat the flames.

I burst out of the passageway and into the hall. I cast around again, looking for the person. Where were they, where, where, where? I looked around and chose a direction at random. If they were in here, they were likely upstairs. To get to the staircase, I had to go past the front door. That was where the fire was. But I had to do it. I couldn't let someone burn.

It was a complete shock. One minute I was running, the next I was lying on the ground, a huge chunk of the railing on top of my chest. I was just about to move it off and get up when I heard something above me. I looked up and saw a piece of the ceiling give way. The piece above me. How did the building burn so fast?

I was completely winded by the wood and plaster landing on me. I tried to get my breath back, but my lungs were being crushed. There was smoke everywhere. Even if I could breathe, there was nothing breathable.

People say that when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. Mine didn't. My thoughts were about the people that I cared about. I was infinitely thankful that Willow was at church. She wasn't here to see what happened. With her suicide attempt, it could put her over the edge. I hoped she would be all right when I was gone.

Chris. I saw him when I was running back. He hadn't seen me. At the time, I had been glad, because that meant he wouldn't try to stop me. Now I was glad because he wouldn't be imagining me trapped under a pile of rubble, about to die.

I had a sudden pang when I thought about Basil. Had he gotten out in time? Of course he had. It hadn't been him I'd felt. I would've known him instantly. Then the only thing I could feel was sadness. "Never," I had said, "until the day I die." I was dying. And I would never get a chance to tell him that, yes, maybe I did like him. Lying in the dust, I could admit that to myself. I just wished I could've told him. It's strange, the things we always put off for another day, not knowing that each day could be our last.

As a desperate, last effort, I tried to lift the rubble on top of me with my mind. But I couldn't concentrate. My need for oxygen was overwhelming my brain, and I couldn't think. It was only then that I really, truly accepted that I was about to die.

No sooner had I come to terms this than I saw a figure in the smoky haze. My oxygen-deprived brain barely registered that they were calling my name.

Then I realized. This was the angel of death, come to take me away. As he reached down for me, I smiled. Everything was all right. It was over. It was time for life to end, and I was ready to let go and fly away with my angel.


	34. Fleeting Thoughts and Memories

**Epilogue – Fleeting Thoughts and Memories**

A week after the disaster, a crowd stood in the garden, listening to the speaker at their head. Many people had tears dripping down their cheeks.

They were crying for one person. The one person that had died in that terrible fire the week before.

At the front of the crowd, Chris, Basil, and Willow stood together, their own dislikes for each other overpowered by the tie to the one person that they had all loved. Willow had tears running down her face and dripping off her nose. Chris stood to her left. He was trying his best not to cry, but he wasn't succeeding. Basil's eyes were closed, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

The speaker lapsed into silence. As if on cue, all three stepped up past the man to the gravestone behind him. Willow dropped to her knees and dropped her bouquet of flowers at the foot of the gravestone, then buried her head in her hands. Chris knelt beside her, then Basil.

Through the crowd, there was absolute silence. A moment of silence for the only one who had died.

Willow stood up, then Chris. In an unexpected display of affection, he pulled her into a hug and allowed her to cry onto his shoulder, something that he would never have done under any normal circumstances.

Basil remained kneeling by the headstone. There were no tears. There was no sobbing. All he could do was stare at that stone.

There would never be a grave. They had never found her body.

"Why did you have to die?" he whispered, so quietly that no one else could hear. Slowly, sadly, he traced the letters of the name on the headstone before him.

_Theresa Anne Scott_

* * *

A/N: That's all, folks! That's the end. Thank you for reading!

Alright. I have a few people I want to thank. Firstly, I want to thank Jack (gaelicdragon), for being my oh-so-lovely beta. She has helped me so much with this story. Next I have to thank 4supernaturalgirl for not letting me quit halfway through. I owe you a lot. And thanks to my good friends Lia and Kyle (Deadeyescream) for telling me how addicted they were to this story and begging incessantly for new chapters. And lastly, a big thank you to all the people that reviewed. I would list you all out, but it would take too long. So thank you, one and all!

I only have one thing left to request. Please, pretty pretty please, don't run me through with a rusty sword, or run me over with Mack trucks full of shrapnel and high explosives. Pretty pretty please?


End file.
